Jedi Trials III: Revenge and Regret
by les-etoilles
Summary: As QuiGon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – QuiGon's presumably dead, former apprentice ObiWan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials saga.
1. Chapter One: One Night

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Finally the first chapter of Revenge and Regret is up! As this is the third story in my AU series, I would encourage you to read the first two stories before reading this one so you're not lost on the plot. However, if you'd like to read this story without reading the other two first, be my guest. I'll answer any questions you may have.

On another note, I'm so sorry it took so long; I lost all my notes for this story and had to rewrite them all. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as the last two! Without further ado, Jedi Trials III…

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter One: One Night

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The room was calming, yet at the same time very painful. It harbored memories of a young man's Knighthood – memories that the older man knew nothing of. What had the young man's life been like? Had he thrown his boots in the middle of the floor every night, too tired to put them away properly? Had he sunk into the couch after a long, grueling mission and slept the fatigue away? Had the refrigeration unit been stocked full of food for the young man to eat, or had food been scarce and the unit unused?

Qui-Gon knew the answers to none of those questions, and the thought of not knowing his ex-Padawan pained him deeply.

Obi-Wan had been dead for months now. He had been given a Jedi's funeral, his possessions burned to represent his body. Qui-Gon had been unable to attend, for he had been the leader of the Separatist movement at that time, and he would always regret not coming to say a last goodbye to his former Padawan.

Though the two hadn't been close to each other for over ten years, Qui-Gon still thought of Obi-Wan as his son. Jedi were not to know attachment, but Qui-Gon had been attached to each and every one of his Padawans. The loss of Xanatos had been devastating, leaving Anakin to join the Separatists had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but losing Obi-Wan…it was heartbreaking. Obi-Wan had been his son, and the loss of his child tore his soul to shreds every time he thought about it.

Yet here Qui-Gon stood in Obi-Wan's quarters, remembering everything from their first meeting to the last words they exchanged before he died. Late evening light streamed in from the large transparisteel window, resting its warm rays on the large couch in the center of the room. Obi-Wan's couch…yet not his couch.

These were not Obi-Wan's quarters anymore. They had been cleared of all Obi-Wan's possessions and cleaned for the use of another Jedi Knight. Soon, another newly Knighted Padawan would move into the room and call it his or her home. The memory of Obi-Wan would fade from the room, replaced by the life, long or short, of the new Knight. The Knight would live within the walls of the room, probably never caring to wonder who had lived there before him or her. It was standard procedure, after all, to use the room of a deceased Jedi to house another. The Temple only had so many rooms. But the thought of Obi-Wan fading from the memory of the Jedi pained Qui-Gon, for he knew he would never forget his Padawan. The day that he forgot Obi-Wan would be the day that he crossed over to the dark side, and he assured himself that neither of those two events would happen.

"Master?"

A quiet voice broke through Qui-Gon's reverie, and for just a moment, he thought it was Obi-Wan. But it wasn't, the logical part of his brain reminded him, for Obi-Wan was dead. Dead. Gone. Not coming back. Qui-Gon choked back a sob. This was the first time he had properly grieved for Obi-Wan since learning of his death. It had been difficult to find time alone on Geonosis, and his first few days back at the Temple had been filled with disciplinary meetings with the Jedi Council and the struggles of settling back into the life of a Jedi Master.

"Master?" the quiet voice said again, this time more insistently.

Struggling and failing to keep up his famous mask of Jedi calm, Qui-Gon turned slowly and found Anakin standing in the doorway, a worried expression on his nineteen-year-old face.

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Anakin watched his former Master worriedly. He had been searching the Temple for hours for Qui-Gon before his Master had told him that he was in Knight Kenobi's old quarters. In all the excitement and chaos of the last few days, Anakin had forgotten that Qui-Gon hadn't known about the young Knight's death. Anakin's own Master, Bant Eerin, was finally moving on after the loss of her friend, but Qui-Gon's grief had just begun, and the loss of his former apprentice seemed to have hit him hard.

Anakin, during his years of being Qui-Gon's Padawan, had never seen Qui-Gon cry. Master Jinn was famous for hiding his emotions from everybody, including his own Padawans, and to see him now, tears streaming down his cheeks, was a bit awkward for Anakin. What was he to say to the tall Jedi who had been like his father and had always comforted him, not the other way around?

Qui-Gon continued to look at him silently, his eyes bloodshot and his cheeks wet. Perhaps Anakin shouldn't have interrupted him… This was obviously a very personal moment for the large Jedi, and it was none of his business to –

"No," Qui-Gon said suddenly, his voice cracking slightly.

A puzzled expression formed on Anakin's young face. "No what, Master?"

Qui-Gon blinked as though he was coming out of a trance. "You don't have to leave," he replied, seeming to have read Anakin's mind. "I – I was just finishing…" He trailed off, and then seemed to slip back into a trance as he stared at something past the room, perhaps a memory.

Anakin opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Kenobi's death seemed to have devastated Qui-Gon. Had they really been that close? Kenobi had seemed so distant with Qui-Gon whenever Anakin had seen them together, but Qui-Gon still seemed to care about his ex-apprentice deeply. Had Anakin been blind to the fact that they had remained friends after Knight Kenobi's Knighting Ceremony?

"How did you find me," Qui-Gon suddenly asked him quietly.

"Master Bant said you'd asked her for the code to Knight Kenobi's room and that it would be a good idea to check here," Anakin replied.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sighed, but didn't say anything else. An awkward silence lingered between them for a few moments as Anakin stood there, unsure how to help his old Master.

A thought suddenly popped into his head. "Master," he began, "it's getting late and Master Bant said that you could join us for the evening meal in our quarters if you wished." He stood there hesitantly, hoping that Qui-Gon would accept the invitation that his Master didn't really make.

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After a moment or two of deliberating on the matter, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I think I'll eat in my quarters tonight, but thank Bant for the offer." Qui-Gon could see the disappointment on Anakin's face, but it didn't change his answer. He didn't feel like socializing at the moment, and while he knew that Anakin was only trying to help, the truth was that Qui-Gon just wanted to be alone tonight and grieve for his Padawan in silence.

Qui-Gon felt Anakin trying to comfort him through their bond as the boy nodded downheartedly. "Oh…okay," he replied quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Master." He left the room quietly and palmed the door shut behind him, leaving Qui-Gon alone in silence.

Qui-Gon sighed as he gazed around the darkening room. The sun had set, and twilight had appeared. Shadows stretched across the floors and walls, but Qui-Gon made no move to turn on the artificial lights. The darkness was comforting to him, and in a way, made him feel closer to Obi-Wan.

Had Obi-Wan sat on the couch in the dark late at night when he couldn't sleep? Obi-Wan had always said he enjoyed the night more than the day, though he seemed to like sleeping better than both day and night. A sad smile formed on Qui-Gon's lips. Obi-Wan had never been an earlier riser, at least not when he had been a Padawan. Qui-Gon had had to force his apprentice out of bed more times than he could remember. But he had enjoyed thinking up new ways to make his Padawan rise…they both had – even if Obi-Wan had been rather grumpy afterwards.

Qui-Gon blinked back more tears as memories of Obi-Wan's other funny and interesting traits flooded his mind. For one night and one night only, Qui-Gon would remember their time together, and not the last ten years of silence. For one night, he would be the Master of a young, hard-working, bull-headed apprentice. For one night, he would be sitting next to his Padawan, helping him meditate or reminding him to release his emotions into the Force.

For one night, Obi-Wan would still be there, a smile on his young face and laughter in his cerulean eyes.

Then Qui-Gon would struggle down the long, rough road of healing.

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The Other Author's Notes: Well, the first chapter is done! Look forward to an exciting story full of plot twists, angst, and action. Remember, reviews are always appreciated and truly do help me write faster. Review replies will be posted on my profile page.

_Edit: 3-10-2007_


	2. Chapter Two: A Sith Exposed

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: And here is chapter two for all my lovely reviewers. Hopefully this chapter will be interesting as the plot is starting to pick up. Enjoy!

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter Two: A Sith Exposed

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Anakin raced through the Temple halls the next morning, his Jedi robes flowing behind him. Wind whistled past his ears; the carpet muffled his quick steps. He rushed past other Jedi mingling about in the hallways, not giving them a second glance. Several called out to him to stop, but he paid them no mind.

"Padawan Skywalker, slow down!"

Anakin couldn't slow down, for he was carrying urgent news to his Master. The Temple had just been contacted by the Prime Minister of the planet Latan, who had reported the deaths of two of the Order's finest Jedi – Siri Tachi and her Padawan, Ferus Olin.

At first, Anakin had thought perhaps he had heard wrong. He had just talked to Ferus a week ago! But it was true; Ferus was dead, along with Master Tachi. No one seemed to know how it happened. They had just been on a negotiation mission, trying to keep the peace between two opposing factions on Latan. It was a routine mission; Anakin himself had gone on hundreds of negotiations throughout his years as a Padawan Learner. Yet they were dead, and no one at the Temple knew how.

Already the news had begun to spread like wildfire. He had heard many Jedi discussing the mysterious deaths of the two as he raced back to the quarters he shared with Bant. He wouldn't be surprised if she already knew; his Master was very good on keeping up with the news in the Temple. But even if she already knew about the death of her friend, he wanted to be there for her. She had already lost so many of her close friends the last few months… He wasn't sure his Master could handle another loss.

He ran through the housing level of the Temple until he finally reached their apartment and anxiously palmed open the door. A blast of salty, moist air greeted him like every other day, and he quietly walked into their quarters to find Bant sitting on the couch, tears streaming from her large silver eyes.

Anakin hung his head sadly.

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"A Sith Lord?"

The words echoed around the silent chamber, their implications hanging over the heads of each person in the room. The idea was too preposterous to even think about. They would have to be crazy to consider that their beloved galaxy was in the hands of a Sith. Impossible!

But impossible as the idea sounded, the implications of stating that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord were too heavy to joke around. Could it be true? Was Palpatine truly a Sith Lord?

The lone figure in the middle of the Council chambers sighed and nodded. "Yes."

Mace Windu looked sharply at his friend. For someone who was dealing them such heavy news, he seemed quite calm about the whole thing. Could it be possible that he was feeding them false information? After all, he had just recently left the Separatists to come back to the Order. He had confessed to leading the March on Coruscant. What made them so sure they could trust him?

"I believe he was responsible for the death of Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said quietly, " and of Master Tachi and Padawan Olin."

Beside him, Mace heard Yoda sigh. He glanced over at the esteemed Jedi Master and saw that his ears had drooped at that thought. The deaths of those three were mysterious, he would admit. They had all been well trained Jedi and had gotten out of more sticky situations than Mace could remember. They were not easy to kill, as so many of their enemies knew. But the Sith were powerful. It would not be hard to imagine a Sith overpowering a Jedi – Qui-Gon had almost died at the hands of a Sith ten years ago. Was it really such a long stretch to think that it had been a Sith that had killed the three Jedi?

No, it wasn't.

But to say that the Sith Lord happened to be the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic was a little bit harder…

"Disturbing is this thought," Yoda said softly, shaking his head.

"How can you be sure that Palpatine is the Sith Lord?" Mace asked his friend. Qui-Gon was known for following his instincts without any hard proof. He was strong in the Living Force, and based many of his _unorthodox_ actions off its will. This made him known as a rebel, for he often claimed that the Living Force told him to do the opposite of what the Council had told him. Needless to say, Qui-Gon was not the Council's favorite Jedi. But even if he was, they could not convict Palpatine of any crime without some sort of proof.

Qui-Gon reached into the pocket of his tunic and produced a small holopad for the Council. Mace eyed it evenly as Qui-Gon turned it on and a holorecording appeared. Two miniature blue figures appeared, locked in a lightsaber duel. Qui-Gon walked over to Yoda and Mace and held the projector in front of the Masters as the two figures fought viciously, until one overcame the other and the recording ended.

Sighing, Mace and Yoda shared a glance that told each other all they needed to know. Mace had recognized both of those dueling figures. The first had undoubtedly been Count Dooku, Qui-Gon's former Master and Yoda's former apprentice, and the other figure…the other figure had been the Sith Lord, Chancellor Palpatine.

"Our worst fears have been realized," Mace mumbled aloud. The Republic was in the hands of a Sith Lord, and the Jedi had been blind to that fact. If they didn't move quickly, then the Republic could be lost forever.

"What will you do?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Hmmm…" Yoda replied, his face pensive. "Discuss the best course of action, we will. Keep the Republic safe, we must."

Mace nodded in agreement and then looked at his friend. "May the Force be with you," he said, dismissing Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon bowed respectfully to the Masters and walked out, his boots tapping on the hard floor. The doors closed with a _hiss_ behind him, and all the Masters looked towards Yoda.

"We did not feel this," Ki-Adi-Mundi said regretfully on the other side of Yoda.

"Move quickly and carefully, we should," Master Yaddle suggested, echoing Mace's own thoughts.

Mace sighed. "But how?" he asked no one in particular, leaving the question open for debate. "How can we remove the Chancellor without disrupting the Senate?" If the Chancellor was the Sith Lord, then Mace doubted he would give up his position so easily.

"He is well loved by the Senate," Kit Fisto added. "We don't know how much of the Senate is already under his control."

"And we don't know what he is planning," Mace continued from Kit's train of thought. "For all we know, he could be heading here right now to destroy the Jedi Order."

Yoda gave a little "humph" at Mace and shook one of his green fingers at him. "Allow him to do that, we will not. Removed from office, he should be, and be removed he will."

Mace nodded thoughtfully at Yoda's words. Forcefully removing the Chancellor from office was an absurd idea, but so was everything else today. This was obviously the will of the Force, and he thanked it for warning them before something devastating happened.

"We should send a team to the Chancellor's office immediately; we cannot allow him to continue to manipulate the Senate."

"I agree," Yoda said. "Lead this team, I will."

"I will go with you," Mace replied after a moment. He would not leave Master Yoda to face the Sith alone. "The Chancellor is obviously more powerful than we know. We should not underestimate his strength."

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The Other Author's Notes: Finally the Jedi realize what's going on right under their noses. Will they be successful in removing Palpatine from office, or will he slaughter them all? Stay tuned to find out, and as always, don't forget to review!


	3. Chapter Three: The Escape

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Here's another chapter for my lovely reviewers. Just for future notice, I'm planning on redoing my room (I don't know when) which means that my computer will disconnected until it's done. When I find out when I'll be redoing it, I'll try to write a couple chapters ahead of time so I can post them at regular intervals instead of making you guys wait a couple weeks for one chapter.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter Three: The Escape

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The planet-sized city of Coruscant was famous for not only its size, but also for being a city that never slept, for while it might be night in part of the city, it was also morning and afternoon in other parts of the giant city. It was currently late morning teetering on the edge of early afternoon at the Senate. Representatives and senators from the thousands of star systems walked the halls quickly or lazily, depending on the urgency of their business. Senatorial aides rushed about carrying stacks of datapads and durasheets, looking as frenzied as ever. A meeting was scheduled for later that day, and every Senator wished to be properly ready when he or she made his or her argument or proposal.

But despite the urgency lingering in the Senate hall, there was one person there who felt no such need to rush around in such an absurd manner. This person – this man – had once been a Senator from the small, beautiful planet of Naboo. He had served well under Queen Amidala until one horrible day when the Trade Federation had invaded the capital city of Theed and had taken over the elegant planet.

Of course, no one had ever expected this _humble_ senator to have been behind the invasion, and thus his plan had worked out perfectly. He had manipulated the Queen into casting a vote of no confidence in Supreme Chancellor Valorum and had then gotten enough support to be nominated and eventually elected to the position of Supreme Chancellor – and no one had suspected a thing.

For ten years he had served as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, and in all those ten years, he had never once been suspected of being the Sith Lord. So, after ten years of gathering support in the Senate and the rest of the Galactic Republic, he had decided it was finally time to move on with his plans. He already had half the battle won, for he basically controlled the galaxy, but he knew he would need help with the second part, so he had found himself an apprentice.

Although he already had an apprentice by the name of Darth Tyranus, he knew that Tyranus could never be the powerful apprentice he needed to continue forward. He had known it from the first moment that he had approached the ex-Jedi, so he had kept his eyes on a few other choices throughout the years.

The first and most obvious choice was Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi's supposed Chosen One. Palpatine was sure that together he and the boy could achieve many things, but the boy's meddling old Master had made sure that Anakin had stayed far away from his influence, to Sidious's dismay. Therefore, after years of trying and failing to turn Skywalker to the dark side, he had traveled on to choice number two.

At first, he wasn't sure he would be able to turn the newly Knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi, for he was also the former Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, Skywalker's Master, but after watching the Jedi from a distance, Palpatine had discovered a hidden emotion in Kenobi: Jealousy. A whole new world of possibilities had opened up to the Dark Lord upon the discovery of that emotion, especially when he had found out it was directed at none other than Anakin Skywalker. Sidious had found his new apprentice, but the question now was how would he get him to turn away from the Jedi?

After much deliberation, the Chancellor had decided that his turn would have to be sudden and painful, an experience that would cast doubts about the Jedi and expand his jealousy ten-fold. Sidious had hired a bounty hunter by the name of Jango Fett to capture the Knight and take him to an underground prison on the dark world of Korriban. There, Kenobi had been tortured, suppressed by the dark side and beaten until he had come to realize that only the dark side could give him what he truly wanted: Revenge. Obi-Wan Kenobi had died pathetically in that prison, and a new being named Darth Dementor had risen and taken his place at the right hand of Palpatine. The Sith Lord's plans were all coming together now, it was just a matter of time.

However, time was a luxury he didn't have right now because for the first time in ten years, the Jedi had realized exactly who Palpatine was, and they were on their way to destroy him. Yet, Palpatine did not rush about his office as he gathered up what he would need. He walked slowly and deliberately as he packed up important datapads and flimsies, including his plans for the ultimate weapon. He had more than enough time to escape the Jedi team sent to destroy him; foresight was a wonderful thing. A part of him wished he didn't have to leave, for his plans were much easier to perform from the plush office of Supreme Chancellor. However, he knew that if he did not leave before the Jedi arrived, his plans would not proceed at all. He simply wasn't ready to take over the Republic at this moment; there was still work to be done. Therefore, he would flee…

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Tap. Tap. Tap.

Yoda took a step and sighed. For the almost nine-hundred-year-old Jedi Master, the walk through the Senate was a tiring task, but the weight of their task made it even more so.

Throughout his years, Yoda had seen much. He had seen heartbreak, tragedy, joy, anger, revenge, and betrayal…but never in all his years had he expected to see this. He had never expected that he would be walking through the Senate to arrest the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. He had never expected to find out the Chancellor was anything else but a good man, but he was. And here Yoda stood.

Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord. How was one to react to such news? How was one to explain such a predicament to Younglings? Yoda had learned how to comfort those in grief and explain to them that the dead weren't really dead…just passed into another realm…but this was something entirely different, and Yoda didn't know how to explain it.

They should've seen what he was. He was right underneath their noses, but the dark side had been clouding their vision for years now, ever since Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had returned from Naboo with Anakin. If only they had realized that _he_ was the one blinding them…

He shook his head. No, it wasn't good to think this way. What ifs would get him nowhere. They were a distraction, and distractions were dangerous. If they were not quickly subdued, they could spell certain death. Yoda hadn't lived all these years to be bested by his mind's wanderings.

"Master Yoda?"

Yoda rose his head to find his good friend, Mace Windu, looking down on him with concern. Yoda's green eyes moved past the dark Jedi Master and saw Ki-Adi-Mundi and Kit Fisto also looking at him with the same concern that Mace's face held. Unnoticed by the venerable Jedi Master amidst his musings, he had stopped walking altogether, standing in the middle of the luxurious hall with a far away look in his eyes.

"Humph," Yoda grunted as he tapped his gimer stick on the floor and started walking again. "When almost nine hundred years you reach, be so easy for you it will not."

Mace nodded at the thought and slowed his pace to match the Jedi Master's as they trekked the long walk up to the Chancellor's office to save the Republic.

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Lightsabers ignited to life. A Red Guard flew across the room and hit the wall with a sickening thud while another moaned as a purple blade cut through his midsection. The path to the Chancellor was clear, but something didn't feel right.

_Too easy it was, _Yoda thought. And it had been. Only three security guards and two of the Chancellor's personal bodyguards had been there to keep the four Jedi Masters from entering the Chancellor's office. They hadn't even tried to stop the Jedi. Blaster bolts had been horribly off-target, and they hadn't called for back up to help protect the Chancellor. There was only one explanation for such behavior:

The Chancellor had known they were coming.

Yoda frowned at the thought. Foresight was rare among Force-sensitives. Yoda had visions every so often, and he knew that other Jedi in the Temple did as well, but foresight was different. Foresight allowed you to see what was coming before it got there. It did not require sleep, only meditation…though the level of meditation depended on how powerful the being was. A Sith Lord with foresight could lead to the end of the Jedi Order, for a surprise attack was key in successfully defeating the Sith. Without that advantage and the increasing darkness inhibiting the Jedi's ability to use the Force, the Jedi would be finished.

Throwing his anxieties into the Force, Yoda hobbled into the Chancellor's office, emerald lightsaber leading the way, to find it completely deserted, just as he had thought. Yoda's large ears drooped in defeat.

"He must've known we were coming," Kit said aloud in dismay, echoing Yoda's earlier thoughts.

"But how?" Mace questioned. "A tip-off?"

"Are you suggesting there is a traitor in the Temple?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked Mace, disbelief dripping from every word.

"No, I – "

Yoda sighed and cleared his throat, silencing the others. "A powerful being, he is, to have seen us coming before we arrived."

"Foresight?"

After a moment of reconsideration, Yoda nodded slowly. Yes, foresight had to be the answer to the puzzle.

"I do not think the Chancellor is powerful enough to have such a gift," Mace refuted, hooking his lightsaber back onto his utility belt.

With a sigh, Yoda looked at his friend sadly. "Then think wrong, you do. Blinded us for years, this Sith Lord has. Powerful is he to have kept his identity hidden from us for so long. Underestimate him again, we should not."

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Dementor swung his crimson lightsaber around in yet another flawless movement. He was practicing yet again with the training droids, and it was starting to get boring. Every day was the same. He awoke early and meditated, drinking up the dark side for hours on end. After eating the morning meal, he would walk around and harass a few droids, then study the ancient Sith holocrons his Master had given him. After finishing his midday meal, he would practice his lightsaber techniques until they were perfected, and if there was any time left before night fell, he would slip back into meditation again until his stomach pulled him out for the last meal of the day. He would then look over a datapad or two for about an hour before going over to his sleep couch and collapsing on the spot.

In the beginning, this schedule had been rigorous and demanding on Dementor, but after weeks of nothing but this, Dementor's body had become used to all the exercise again. Repeating the same schedule day in and day out had become _just slightly_ less than exciting.

He hadn't been outside since his mission to Latan, and he was getting restless. Cabin fever, the space pilots called it. Every day since his return, he had been stuck in his Master's hideout underneath the Sith Temple on Korriban. He would've liked to do some exploration of the ancient Sith Temple, but his Master wouldn't let him. Nor would he let him return to Coruscant and wreak havoc upon the Jedi. Dementor was considering destroying all the droids in the hideout just so he could spend the entire day putting them back together. At least it would be a change of schedule.

Dementor whipped his lightsaber around in an arch and ripped through the hovering training droid beside him, letting it crash to the ground. Even destroying training droids, no matter how many times he struck them with all his anger, had lost its appeal. He wanted to get out of this confining, smells-like-a-bantha prison.

"Soon enough, my young apprentice," a chilling voice replied suddenly. "Soon enough."

Dementor whirled around in surprise. "Master?"

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The Other Author's Notes: Palpatine has escaped the Jedi…what will that mean for the rest of the galaxy? I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and as always, please review!

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	4. Chapter Four: The Sith Lord's Plan

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Rewritten for your personal enjoyment.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter Four: The Sith Lord's Plan

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"This is an outrage!"

"That's impossible!"

"I don't believe it!"

"He lies!"

Thousands of voices echoed across the dome-shaped room, each declaring their anger and disbelief. Qui-Gon stood silently in the middle of the Senate Hall in a repulsorpod as the voices raged around him, each seemingly louder than the previous. To his left stood Aayla Secura, her attentive eyes watching the enraged senators carefully, one blue hand resting lightly on her lightsaber hilt, mostly out of habit, but he had a strange feeling that it was there in case a riot broke out.

Not that either one of them expected a riot to engulf the Senate Dome. The senators were not physically violent beings; they preferred to fight with words rather than weapons. And Qui-Gon was positive that they had had more than enough fighting in the past week.

"Why should we believe you? You're a Separatist!"

"Yes so! You want to ruin our Republic!"

Qui-Gon shared a brief glance with Aayla. He had feared this. Although the Separatist movement had been dissolved after the death of General Grievous, members of the movement were still regarded with fear and apprehension. Could he blame them? No, not really. No matter his reason, the truth of the matter was that Qui-Gon _had_ been part of a rebellion against the Republic. He was a traitor, a traitor to democracy and the people he been protecting his entire life. If he were in their position, would he trust him?

Fortunately, he was saved from answering, for Aayla chose that moment to speak. "Master Jinn is a member of the Jedi, and his only goal is protecting the Republic. He came here today in confidence that the senators would put their trust in the Jedi as they have always previously done."

Aayla, though much younger than himself, had wisdom beyond her years, which he greatly admired. So many Jedi found themselves frustrated by the Senate and politics in general (himself included), yet she seemed serene even in such a volatile setting.

"Why should we believe you?"

"In case you've forgotten," Aayla continued, "Master Jinn was the one to conquer Grievous, ending the Separatists. He is also the one who showed us the truth of Palpatine's identity."

"I won't believe it! Supreme Chancellor Palpatine is not a Sith!"

Qui-Gon, astonished by their ignorance and absolute loyalty to the Sith Lord, moved half a step towards the red-in-the-face Senator. "If what you say is true, Senator, about Chancellor Palpatine's innocence," he began calmly, each word slow and serious. He would make these people realize the truth somehow. Even if he had to spell it out for them. "Then tell me, why is the Chancellor not here to prove his innocence?"

The Senator stuttered and squirmed under the logic of Qui-Gon's question. "Well…I…h-he…he…just…T-t-the Chancellor has only ever helped the Republic!" He concluded, though that was neither true nor an answer to his question.

_No,_ Qui-Gon thought to himself quietly. _He was hurting it; we were all just too blind to realize that._

-----

The frigid wind swept over the desolate lands of Korriban, sweeping up anything in its path and twisting it about ferociously. It whistled through the sparsely populated city of Dreshdae, home to those who wished to stay hidden, and soared over the rocky terrain, squeezing through crevices, dancing to silent music. It whipped through the Valley of the Dark Lords, spraying up small rocks and other debris, anxious to leave the cursed place, until it came upon the sight of the darkest place of them all – the ancient Sith Academy.

Founded around the same time as the Great Sith War took place, the Sith Academy was home to such dark beings as Darth Revan and Darth Malak. The Sith Academy, like the Jedi Temple, was used to train Force-sensitives and Fallen Jedi in the ways of the dark side. Killing other students was not a forbidden practice, and backstabbing was commonplace. Unfortunately, infighting ended the legacy of the Sith Academy by turning it into a graveyard of Sith and Sith hopefuls.

It had remained dormant for a millennia; the residents of Dreshdae were far too afraid of its power to seek out the wealth of knowledge it held. It was the perfect place for two Sith to hide from the Republic until the time was right.

Shyracks soared through the Academy; wind beat upon the side of its duracrete walls in fury. Menacing statues glared down from their posts, casting long shadows in their wake. There were no glowlamps to light a path through the eerie darkness of the structure. Only someone who was either suicidal or knew his or her way around could possibly survive walking through a place so strong in the dark side of the Force.

Thankfully for Dementor, his Master was not suicidal.

Lord Sidious had surprised the new Sith with his arrival on the Force-forsaken planet of Korriban, but Dementor had been even more surprised when Sidious commanded him to take a walk with him through the Sith Academy. As Dementor had been on the verge of insanity from having been stuck below ground for so long, he had jumped at the chance for a little fresh air and a change of scenery.

Silently, they traveled the paths traveled by some of the greatest Sith Lords. Their footsteps echoed off the walls and floor. The air in the Academy was cool, nay, cold, but it wasn't the temperature that sent shivers up and down Dementor's spine. Whispers floated in the air around them. Their words were tantalizing…the opportunities they presented him were exhilarating. Sweet words, as delightful as a cinna sweet to children, each one more seductive than the one before. Power, they offered him, more power than he could possibly imagine. And revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge. All he had to do was ignite his crimson blade…that was all it took…and then the galaxy would be his and his alone. How could he deny their appetizing offer? How could he deny himself the power? His fingers inched their way towards his lightsaber hilt, centimeter by painful centimeter, until cool metal in the form of a cylinder met his fingers and –

"Lord Dementor."

Dementor snapped his head towards his Master, a coy smile on the Sith Lord's face, and blinked in confusion. The whispers were gone. Silence reigned. The gale outside pounded the sturdy structure. Critters scurried about in fear of the two humans that had invaded their home. And Dementor's finger rested lightly upon his lightsaber's activation button.

After what seemed like hours, Dementor finally spoke. "Yes, Master?"

"It is almost time," Sidious replied simply, resuming their walk through the giant, triangular halls of the Sith Academy.

"Almost time for what," Dementor questioned as he fell in step with his Master, his black robes swishing behind him.

"To take the Republic for ourselves, naturally," he said as if he was explaining it to a small child. Dementor stiffened at Sidious's tone of voice, but continued walking with his Master as he fingered his lightsaber, shooting a dark glare that would make anybody curl up and die on the spot at his Master from beneath the hood of his dark robes.

"Yes," the Sith Lord continued quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself instead of his young apprentice. "I have foreseen our victory over the Jedi. Soon I shall collect the clones from Kamino as planned, and the galaxy shall be ours."

Dementor tilted his head to the left, eyeing his Master in confusion. What plan? What clones? What in the name of the Force was his Master talking about?

"Clones, Master?" Dementor asked lightly, despite the burning desire for an answer to the puzzles his Master spoke.

Silence reigned between them for a moment or two, their echoing steps the only noise in the dark Academy. Dementor began to think that his Master was going to ignore his question, but finally, Sidious spoke.

"The late Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas was kind enough to create a clone army of Jango Fett for our uses." More puzzles. Why would a Jedi Master create an army of bounty hunters for two Sith? Such an action would have to go through the vote of the Council to get authorization, and Dementor knew that the Jedi Council would never agree to such a thing. Unless…

The puzzle began to unravel inside Dementor's mind, and a small smirk slowly grew on his shaded face.

The whispers returned.

-----

What Qui-Gon didn't realize about Aayla's calm demeanor was that she _despised_ politics; she was simply a master at the art of masking her emotions.

She and Master Jinn had been standing in a repulsorpod in the middle of the Senate for almost an hour and nothing had been agreed upon. Arguing had been going on for most of the hour, and the arguing had been preceded by angry shouts directed at the two Jedi. How anyone could stand this, she would never understand.

If it weren't for her past lessons of patience at the Jedi Temple…

"We are not under your authority!"

"Representative Gaetal has made a strong point. We are a democracy; we do not have to do as you tell us…"

"I don't see you making any suggestions, Senator."

If her former Master, Quinlan Vos, were here at this moment, she knew his face would be smirking at her. He had always seemed to know how to provoke her, and he enjoyed using her own emotions to teach her valuable lessons. Bringing her to the Senate had been one of his favorite lessons…

But nevertheless, she was a Jedi, and she managed to release her frustration into the Force, giving her the air of peace and serenity. It was perhaps one of the hardest lesson for a Jedi to learn, but after years of practice (and sometimes failure), she had finally perfected it.

"Friends, friends," a quiet but commanding voice said suddenly, capturing the full attention of every senator in the room. Aayla searched for the source of the voice among the throngs of senatorial repulsorpods and finally spotted Senator Bail Organa from Alderaan making his way to the center of the dome, his repulsorpod whirring with every centimeter. "Let us put aside our pointless bickering. The fact of the matter is that the Republic is now without a Supreme Chancellor. Despite our personal beliefs on the disappearance of Chancellor Palpatine, we need to keep the galaxy running as smoothly as possible, lest we let it run away from us like a wild bantha. The Senate _needs _a leader. I myself do not feel qualified for such a position, but I believe my long-time friend and respected colleague could make this Republic greater than it has ever been. I nominate Senator Padme Amidala from Naboo for Supreme Chancellor."

The dome erupted in cheers at the senator's suggestion. Beside her, Aayla felt Qui-Gon smile as another senatorial pod whirred forward to nominate another candidate. Aayla bowed gratefully to Senator Organa, who nodded back respectfully.

The Jedi's work in the Senate was finished.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Better than the original chapter, yes or no?

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	5. Chapter Five: QuiGon's Request

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: You cannot possibly imagine how much happier I am with this new version of chapter five than I was with the first one. Just take my word when I say that this story will be much, much better than what I had originally planned. I am so happy to be writing again!

Also, thanks for all the reviews I have been receiving. A couple of you have been asking if there's any chance that Obi-Wan will turn back to the light. Unfortunately, I can't say anything without spoiling the story... Sorry! You'll just have to read it and find out.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Five: Qui-Gon's Request

-----

"I agree with Master Mundi. Masters Yaddle and Unduli should be given this task."

"Mmm," Yoda meditated. "Strong, they are, in the Force. A good team, they will make. What say you, Master Yaddle?"

Yaddle closed her eyes for a moment, consulting the will of the Force. The Council watched her, feeling the Force flow around her. The Force had felt tainted and clouded since the discovery of Darth Sidious, but now, as it filled the Council Chambers and Master Yaddle, it felt pure, strong, and vibrant.

"Agree, I do," she replied with quiet strength as she opened her large, yellow-green eyes. "The will of the Force, it is."

Master Windu nodded his head in concordance with this statement, as did many others. The future was clouded, but the Force was resilient. It would guide the Masters to their foe.

"Then there is no more need for discussion."

-----

Word spread quickly throughout the Temple, so it should've been no surprise to anyone, least of all Yaddle, when Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn showed up at her door.

His calm exterior said otherwise, but she could feel his desperation for the need _to do something._ Feelings like these were unbecoming of a Jedi, especially a Master of his stature. Desperation, through a series of other emotions, led to the dark side.

"Hello, Master Jinn," she greeted, pursing her lips so slightly it was almost unnoticeable. "Do for you, what may I?"

Qui-Gon bowed respectfully. "Master," he began softly. "I heard you were leading the search for Sidious."

Her ear twitched as she nodded, her eyes never leaving the human Jedi's face, which was covered with more facial hair than usual, giving his already roguish appearance a more maverick look. "True, it is." He radiated fatigue even as he stood there. When was the last time he slept?

Here, he hesitated, as one who has something important to say or ask does when he or she cannot find the right words.

Yaddle gently prompted him. "Yes?"

Something foreign flashed in Qui-Gon's eyes for a nanosecond as his shields faltered. Then they were up again, so quickly Yaddle could almost suspect she had imagined the pain she saw and felt in Qui-Gon.

However, she did not imagine it; Qui-Gon Jinn was filled with hidden pain.

She became wary. It was dangerous to carry such emotions inside, locked up behind a wall that was only so strong. She knew the circumstances in which the pain had developed, of course; everyone did. However, that didn't make it any less of a danger to not only Qui-Gon, but also the entire Jedi Order. Pain turned to hate, hate to revenge, revenge to _death_.

Only by accepting and releasing his pain into the Force could Qui-Gon successfully overcome it.

"Master Yaddle, I was hoping I might be able to accompany you."

At this, Yaddle frowned, deeply disturbed by his request. "On probation, you are," she reminded him, pointing one of her green fingers at him. "Leave the Jedi Temple, you cannot."

"Yes, I realize that, but I feel that the Living Force is telling me that I must go."

"Humph," she replied. "Telling _me_ this, the Living Force is not."

"The Force – "

"Too much pain you carry, Qui-Gon Jinn," Yaddle interrupted. "Clouded your judgment, it has." She stared hard at him to make her point while he neither denied nor accepted her accusation. She would not let him join the mission. _To stay at the Temple and meditate, he needs, not to chase down a Sith Lord._ "Come with us, you will not."

He opened his mouth to object, but Yaddle cut him off again.

"Trust my judgment, you must."

-----

"Have you heard the news, Padawan?"

Anakin looked up from the droid he was rewiring to face his Master. His stomach dropped in a very un-Jedi-like manner. Lately, there had been a lot of news around the Temple – too much for Anakin's liking, and all of it bad.

Needless to say, he was getting sick of funerals.

Yet Bant was smiling, so this news couldn't be bad, could it? Not so close to his twentieth Life Day…

"The Senate has voted. Your friend Amidala is the new Supreme Chancellor."

"Kriff, Master," he swore, letting out a faux breath he hadn't been holding. "I thought you were going to tell me wild banthas were running amok in the Temple!"

Bant laughed. "Is that likely to happen?"

"Anything is possible," he said mysteriously, went back to tinkering with the droid, then added, "Can you imagine if Master Yoda or Master Yaddle got stepped on?"

"Anakin!" his Master exclaimed, slapping him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Master, but they're so…so short and…well, I just think it would be funny to be walking along the halls and come across a Yoda hotcake…"

"Oh, Anakin…" Bant muttered, head in her salmon had as she tried to fight off giggles. "What will I do with you?"

"I don't know," he replied with a grin. Suddenly becoming serious, he put his hand on her arm. "It's good to hear you laugh, Master."

Bant immediately fell silent, and he inwardly groaned. _Way to kill the mood, Skywalker,_ he berated. _Kriffing idiot…_

But then, Bant placed her hand on his arm in a likewise fashion and adopted a small, not-sad-yet-not-happy smile. "It's good _to_ laugh again. With help from the Force…and from you, I am finally able to move on from my grief." Color rose to his cheeks. He had felt utterly useless during her grieving. How had he possibly helped her?

"How do you do it, Master," he asked quietly. "How do you move on after losing two of your closest friends? When my mother died, I was so angry I almost murdered the Sand People."

It was a story he had never told her; no one in the Temple knew, except Qui-Gon…and perhaps Yoda. The grief had consumed him, shaped him into a horrible monster teetering on the edge of the dark side. If Qui-Gon hadn't pulled him back… How did one conquer such grief on his or her own?

She rubbed his arm comfortingly. "Because they are in the Force, and the Force is in me. My friends are in me. Just as your mother is in you… If you concentrate, you can feel them."

The answer was so simplistic, yet she said it with such meaning that if felt like a sudden revelation, not something that had been drilled into every Jedi's head since he or she had arrived at the Temple.

Struck by this, the pair sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. Then, Bant checked the chronometer on her wrist. "You have time if you want to visit the Senator…I mean, Chancellor."

Anakin shrugged. He hadn't spoken to Padme since Tatooine; a few more days wouldn't hurt. Since he had overcome his infatuation for her, he no longer felt the need to be with her every possible second. Qui-Gon had been right; his feelings for her had been impairing his judgment.

"Maybe some other time," he replied, returning his attention to the broken droid in front of him, which his friend Tru Veld had given him after he had accidentally (according to Tru) broke it. It was common knowledge that Anakin was an excellent mechanic. "I'm sure she's too busy being congratulated by senators right now. Besides," he added with a teasing grin, "I wouldn't want to miss my meditation time."

-----

Together, Jedi Masters Yaddle and Luminara Unduli meditated in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, stretching their minds through the Force, hoping to catch even the smallest sense of the Sith Lord so they could bring the deadly being to justice before the Jedi Order was brought to ruin.

At the same time, several plans were being formulated by several different people, Jedi and Sith, on opposite sides of the galaxy. A Master sneered at what he had foreseen; an Apprentice smirked at his own cunning, and a desperate man consulted the Force.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Yay for being done with the first of the new chapters! Doesn't it flow much better? I think so. There's more excitement to come soon, so keep reading. Questions? Comments? Predictions? Hit that little button in the corner.


	6. Chapter Six: An Unwanted Seduction

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: First of all, Happy New Year! I can't believe it's almost 2007 (or already 2007 for those lucky people on the other side of the globe). It seemed like this year would never arrive, seeing as it's a very important year in my life what with graduation and finally becoming and adult and moving out and college...and well, the list could go on forever, but I must keep my mind in the here and now where it belongs.

(But Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future...)

But not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the Living Force, young Padawan.

(Yes, Master.)

Haha, moving on...

This is the quickest I think I've ever gotten chapters up. I'm so proud of myself, and I should be keeping this pace up for at least another week, as I still have another whole week off from school. But, like always, no promises, just in case something comes up... Enjoy!

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Six: An Unwanted Seduction

-----

"Oh, hello, Anakin." Surprise.

"Chancellor Amidala, pleasure to see you. Congratulations on your election." Friendship.

"Thank you. What are you doing here?" Curiosity.

"I _live_ here, Chancellor." Dry humor.

"Oh, yes, of course…" Embarrassment.

"What are _you _doing here?" Intrigue.

"The Senate has no Jedi liaison, so I came to speak with the Council. I wanted them to know they have the Republic's full cooperation as they hunt down Chance – Darth Sidious." Sincerity.

"That was kind of you." Hidden sarcasm.

"I…also came to see you." Desire.

"Me?" Disbelief.

"Yes… I never properly thanked you for protecting me on Naboo and Tatooine." Seduction.

"I – I…" Shock.

"Ani?" Concern.

"I – I have to go. Practice. Things. Stuff. Bye." Panic.

Anakin's feet pounded on the heavy carpet of the halls in rhythm with his pounding heart as he tried desperately to be _anywhere but here_. Had she really – ? Yes, she had.

He ran hard and fast with no destination, as if running could make recent events disappear. Of course, it was foolish, but for a panicking Padawan, it was sensible logic.

How could she? All those times back on Naboo, when Anakin had wanted to – wanted her…he had been refused – by Qui-Gon, by _her_…yet now, when he had finally gotten sense…when he _didn't_ want her, she had the – the _nerve_ to waltz into the Jedi-_kriffing_-Temple…his _home_…and try to…_seduce him_.

"Sith," he swore. Was she insane? She must be, for only a _complete lunatic_ would try something so stupid. In the name of the Force…

Why _him_? Why was he always the one tempted and tested? Why not his friends, his Master, Qui-Gon, or better still, why not Yoda?

_You're the Chosen One_.

Yes, and a lousy Chosen One he made. He wasn't as skilled with a lightsaber as Qui-Gon, or as strong in the Force as Yoda. He was average. Arrogant, average Anakin. Whose former crush had just tried to seduce him…

He shuddered, coming to a halt in the middle of the hall near the sparring rooms. He needed to talk to someone about this; Qui-Gon was the most likely candidate, but he had been preoccupied with grieving over Kenobi since his return to the Jedi. In fact, Anakin and Qui-Gon had not spoken for a few days. It was strange to not see his former Master every day, the man who had rescued him from Tatooine and promised to make him a Jedi even when the Council hadn't allowed it. There was a void in him, a void that should've been filled with Qui-Gon's presence and wisdom. A part of him felt…empty…when he didn't see him every day.

His next obvious choice was Bant, but she didn't know the history on his Padme…_situation._ He didn't want her to be disappointed in him as Qui-Gon had been. She might not understand.

_Why_, a voice challenged. _You don't have feelings for Padme now, do you? Then she won't have a problem with it. A Jedi only looks to the future._

He scowled, upset that an imaginary voice had a better understanding of the Jedi and the world around him than he, the Chosen One, did. Nevertheless, the voice was right. Besides, wasn't his Master here to guide him?

-----

Bant wasn't in their joint residence quarters when he arrived, so he decided to take a walk to clear his thoughts. Naturally, meditation would've been the better choice, but Anakin had never been particularly fond of meditation, though that distaste for one of the most necessary parts of a Jedi's life had lessened enough over the years to where he could sit through his mandatory hour of meditation (and sometimes more) without fidgeting.

Perhaps he would become a Jedi Knight someday after all…

It was during his meandering around the quiet, comfortable halls that he met Master Yoda. He bowed to the venerable Master and made to continue onward, but Yoda stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"Troubled, you are, Padawan Skywalker."

He blinked. "How – ?"

"Projecting quite loudly, you are. Your shields, need work they do."

Anakin had the decency to blush. Who knew how many Jedi had been hearing his thoughts over the last – he checked his chrono – half-hour? Was _that_ what those two Initiates had been giggling about? He groaned. _Sithspit_, that was embarrassing. As was blushing in front of the oldest and wisest member of the Jedi High Council…

"Humph, think me old, do you?" he accused, hitting him hard on the shin with his gimer stick.

"Ow!" For star's sake! He slammed his shields into place and groaned. He was making a complete fool out of himself. And now, to top it all off, his shin hurt like a Sith.

"No, Master Yoda, I – "

"No need for excuses. Serious, I am not," he interrupted, tapping the floor with his walking stick, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

_Some joke._

"Now," he said, serious again. "Upset you are. What help can I be?"

Anakin fidgeted, toying with a loose thread on his robes. Master Bant may understand, but would Yoda? The wise Jedi had made clear his opinion on attachments; he would only repeat what he said to all Jedi.

But it wasn't as if he had an attachment to Padme…

_Not now; but I used to._

He didn't want to admit his failing to the small, green Master before him.

"Confused, you are," Yoda said, interrupting his thoughts. "Come; sit." He led the way out onto a balcony overseeing the majestic skyline of the city-planet and hopped up on a bench, waiting expectantly for Anakin to join him.

Anakin could not refuse and stiffly sat down beside him.

"Now, tell me your troubles."

"Master Yoda," he hesitated, now unsure where to begin. "Since Master Qui-Gon found me on Tatooine, I've had a – an _attachment_ to Chancellor Amidala."

Yoda "hmmed" as his left ear twitched.

"My Master – well, former Master – pointed my infatuation out to me while we were protecting the former Senator from the bounty hunter. Eventually, I managed to overcome it, realizing its danger and the fact that she had no such affections for me.

"But something happened today, Master Yoda. I met Padme – I mean, the Chancellor, in the halls and she…she…" He trailed off and stared at his hands in shame.

"Tempted you, she did," Yoda stated wisely.

Though it was not a question, he answered it as such. "Yes, Master, she did. I – I refused her, of course," he added quickly, an appropriate amount of blush creeping to his cheeks. Stars and planets, would he ever stop doing that? "But I'm so confused, Master, and scared." Fear was not an appropriate emotion for the Jedi, but he had sneaking suspicion that Yoda already knew and was simply letting him talk. "What if I haven't gotten rid of my feelings for her? What if they're hidden, and this – this…_event…_reveals them? What if I can't stop them?"

The wisest and most experienced Master in the Temple sighed, his ears drooping. "Know you do the rule of attachments. Wise you are, to guard yourself from the Chancellor's affections. Control her feelings, you cannot, but yours you can. Release your fear into the Force. Ask it, you must, to guide you. In it you must trust to lead you down the right path."

With that, he hopped down from the bench, his gimer stick tapping on the duracrete floor. "Glad, I am, that you have confided in me. Close to becoming a true Jedi Knight, you are."

He left Anakin gaping at his retreating back.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: If any of you find Padme's behavior to be a bit OOC, it's not. Remember, while Anakin made his advances quite known in AotC, it was Padme who officially began their relationship when she realized she actually did want him.


	7. Chapter Seven: To Grieve

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Ah, another chapter. Well, nothing really to say about this chapter...there's a bit of evil!Obi at the end, which has been long overdue. Enjoy!

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Seven: To Grieve

-----

Mace was not always as stern as the Padawans, and even fellow Masters, made him out to be. If in the right situation, he could see the lighter side of things – even laugh at jokes, banter playfully, and be, though it was hard for many to believe, generally _cheery_.

This was not one of those times.

In fact, this was the antithesis of those times.

"Just listen to me."

"Who said I wasn't?"

Qui-Gon could be so stubborn.

And so annoying with his calm Jedi mask, not even his voice betraying his true emotions.

It was ironic how something Mace had taught so many was now the source of his frustration.

"Yaddle spoke with the Council today."

"Is that cause for concern? I was under the impression she did that quite a lot."

He fixed Qui-Gon with a hard stare that made most, if not all, younglings run to their Creche Masters in fear. It had little effect on Qui-Gon, though.

"She said you consulted her about accompanying her and Luminara during their search for the Sith Lord. You know you can't leave the Temple."

Qui-Gon shot him a look that plainly asked, "When has that ever stopped me?" The Korun Jedi Master sighed and rubbed his temple at his friend's behavior.

"Why do you want to seek the Sith Lord yourself?" His question was met by silence, but Mace already knew the answer. "Revenge is of the Dark Side. A Jedi does not even contemplate it."

Again, Qui-Gon remained silent. This was, perhaps, even more infuriating than when he was being flagrantly disrespectful. Mace released his emotions into the Force.

"My friend," he said softly, kneeling beside him on the soft green grass in the Room of a Thousand Fountains where Qui-Gon had been meditating. It was extremely rude to interrupt a Jedi while he or she was meditating, but given the circumstances, Mace had felt it permissible. "We must not mourn or miss those who have entered the Force. You've been consumed by your grief for too long. You must move on."

"My… Obi-Wan is gone," he stated, his voice husky as if he'd recently been crying, though his face was absent of tears. "It's not something I can get over in a day, Mace."

Neglecting to mention that it had been quite awhile longer than a day, Mace sighed. He did that a lot around Qui-Gon. "Death is natural. We all become one with the Force eventually."

"It wasn't his time."

Mace hardened, his eyebrows knit together sternly. "Who are you to question the timing of the Force?"

His friend was toeing a thin line.

"You're not the only one in this Temple to lose a former Padawan."

"They didn't lose Obi-Wan."

His voice hard but his expression soft, he replied "The Jedi Code forbids self-pity and remorse."

Expecting more of a response out of the maverick Jedi at the mention of the Code, Mace was surprised when Qui-Gon merely shook his hand and murmured "I have failed all of my Padawans. I will never take another."

He repressed the idea of pointing out that he had said that after Xanatos and instead stated "Only a Sith deals in absolutes."

"Is that not also an absolute?"

Mace, this time, was silent.

"I…do not think we are capable of ascertaining that answer," he replied hesitantly, unwilling to concede for fear of the revelation that might follow.

"Of course not," Qui-Gon agreed with more than a hint of sarcasm. He couldn't help but remember that all of Qui-Gon's Padawans had had tongues as sharp as their Master's. But who was responsible: the Master or the Apprentices?

Probably both. Qui-Gon had always had a great affinity for choosing beings similar to himself.

He sighed. (Again?) All his talking seemed to have fallen on deaf ears as Qui-Gon had already put himself into a light trace, the Force flowing steadily around him.

"You need to move on, Qui-Gon," he repeated as he stood and made his way out of the room, unsure that his friend's grief was in any way abated.

-----

Anakin's Master had insisted that while they were planetside, he had to do something constructive. Constructive here meaning studying data pads of _her_ choice or practicing his lightsaber skills.

Brilliant as the boy may have been (in more ways than one), he chose the latter.

As if there was really a choice. _Please…_

He suspected she had used a bit of reverse psychology on him, giving him a horrible choice against a well-loved choice.

He'd get her back, make no mistake.

A Jedi did not seek revenge, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun at his Master's expense.

He was already formulating a plan when he knocked on the door of Darra Thel-Tanis's residence quarters to ask her to spar.

Darra was a kind girl and had been his friend, as well as Tru Veld's, for years – since he had arrived at the Temple. In their early years, before Tru and Darra had been chosen as Padawans, the three had been bonded at the hip.

Now, years later, they were Senior Padawans, quickly approaching their Knighting Ceremonies.

Soara Antana, Darra's Master, palmed open the door. "Hello, Anakin."

"Master Antana," he greeted, bowing respectfully. "Is Darra here?"

"Anakin!" He was only able to glimpse a head of golden-brown hair before his friend raced into his arms, pummeling him to the ground.

Soara only chuckled as Anakin's cries of "Ow!" and "Darra!" did nothing to stop the small yet surprisingly strong girl from holding him to the ground as joy radiated off her in sheets.

"_Master Antana_…" he finally whined, slightly embarrassed that he had let his friend tackle him to the ground like that and more embarrassed that he couldn't get her _off_.

"Darra," her Master chided. With a sigh, the girl complied and rose, helping Anakin up as well. The door to their quarters slid shut.

"I got back yesterday," she said excitedly. Anakin couldn't help but laugh; Darra was usually so calm.

"I know." She and her Master had been mediating border disputes along the Outer Rim for many months now.

"Why didn't you come see me last night?"

Anakin shrugged nonchalantly. "Didn't feel like it," he replied with a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

She swatted him playfully, which he ducked with ease and grinned cheekily at her. "I know you just got back," he said, beginning to walk down the hall, knowing his friend would follow, "and you're probably tired, but Bant said I had to practice my lightsaber. You wanna spar?"

Darra stopped on the spot, confusion written on her face. "Bant? Why would Healer Eerin tell you to practice?"

Muttering a few obscenities in Huttese and stopping his stride, he turned to face her and sighed. "I forgot; you don't know what's been happening…" With that, he began relating the sad tale of the past few months, which began so innocently with a mission to protect Senator Amidala from a devious and cunning bounty hunter. He told her of his and Qui-Gon's mission, of Knight Kenobi's investigation (and disappearance), of hiding on Naboo and then Tatooine, of his mother's death…

…He left out the part about his rage and almost-fall to the Dark Side…

…Of Qui-Gon's decision to leave the Jedi Order and join the Separatists, of Bant's willingness to take Anakin as Padawan, of Kenobi's death, of the Separatist attack on the Senate, of Qui-Gon's return to the Jedi, of Master Tachi's and Ferus Olin's deaths at the hands of a Sith, of Chancellor Palpatine's real identity as the Sith Lord they'd been searching for since the blockade of Naboo ten years prior, of Palpatine's disappearance, and, finally, of Senator Amidala's election to the position of Chancellor.

By the time he finished, he could see Darra's head spinning and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I…I can't believe all that happened while we were away," she said breathlessly, trying and failing to choke back a sob. "I can't believe they're all dead… Knight Kenobi, Master Tachi, Ferus…"

He held her as tears streamed down her face, wishing he hadn't been the bearer of such bad news. He hated when others cried because of him.

"Palpatine didn't even have the guts to fight him with a lightsaber," he mumbled, scorning the name of the former Supreme Chancellor and current Dark Lord of the Sith. "He just Force-choked him and threw him aside like garbage."

Ferus and Anakin hadn't been the best or closest of friends (he had found Ferus's know-it-all tendencies to be annoying), but he had been saddened by the loss of a fellow Padawan and someone he had occasionally spoken to. Darra's tears threatened to bring the sorrow back, but he steeled himself against it.

A Jedi did not grieve.

-----

"Master, you've never told me where Kamino resides."

The Sith Lord chuckled, his thin lips drawn into a devious smirk. "You are very astute, my young Apprentice. You always have been."

Dementor scowled at the mention of his former life with the Jedi, but said nothing. It would not be wise to anger his Master before he received the coordinates for the cloner's planet. The information was vital if his plan were to succeed.

It would.

"Why do you wish to know the coordinates?" He felt the Dark Lord probing the edges of his mind and quickly reinforced his shields. Surely, his traitorous thoughts would get him killed if Sidious discovered them.

"It is the only missing piece of this puzzle you call a plan, my Lord," he lied smoothly, and not without a hint of sarcasm.

"Indeed it is. Indeed."

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Everything's starting to fall into place now... I feel evil. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	8. Chapter Eight: Padawans

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Here is a very long chapter filled with much needed information to satisfying your thirst. Alas, this is the last update before I return to that horrid institution commonly known as school. Because of this deeply disturbing fact, updates shall not be as frequent as they have been the past two weeks, but I shall try my best to get them to you as quickly as possible.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Eight: Padawans

-----

The Force was an unusual thing. Some non-Force-sensitives said it was confusing, disturbing, and just plain weird. Others found it mysterious, and though they didn't understand it, they trusted the Jedi to wield it for the good of the Republic.

And they did.

That was Yaddle's purpose. She had asked the Force to guide her, to help her discover the location of the Sith Lord so they could protect the Republic and the Jedi Order by destroying him.

Yaddle hated taking lives. However, the Sith Lord had no qualms about it. Darth Sidious was far too dangerous to be kept alive; she would do what she must.

But first, she had to find him.

She and Luminara had been granted permission to use Yoda's private meditation chambers as long as they needed to discover the location of the former Chancellor. They had both been going into deep trances for over a week now, searching for a whisper of the Dark Side. The Force flowed and crashed around them like ocean waves. It filled their minds and bodies, showing them the light amongst the growing darkness. They followed its movements as it led them across the galaxy, over hilltop and desert dune, the cold of space and the heat of the suns.

Yaddle asked it for the answer once again.

The Force replied.

It led her to a world floundering in death and darkness. Once home to the Sith Academy, the world had never recovered from the mark the Dark Side had left on the cold, scorched land.

Korriban.

Of course.

The Sith planet had always been a dark presence in the minds of the Jedi. They had grown used to its icy signature. They had grown so used to it, in fact, that they hadn't noticed the darkness growing, now more powerful than ever before.

It was the perfect place for a Sith to hide.

"Our destination, I have discovered," she said, breaking out of her trance. Luminara followed her example and waited for her to continue. "To Korriban we must go. There, the Sith lies."

"Are you sure?"

Yaddle nodded. "Darkness, I felt there. Growing rapidly, it is. Great haste we must make."

"We'll leave immediately."

-----

Darth Sidious, also known as former Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, snapped his eyes open, struck by foresight.

They were coming. _The Jedi._

Curse the Jedi for discovering the location of his hideout. They were ruining his perfect plans. What had once looked like an _easy_ take over of the Republic was now difficult and dangerous. He had planned it all on the fact that he wouldn't be revealed.

He hadn't given the Jedi enough credit.

He had thought them blundering idiots.

Then again, they were. They hadn't been able to see what was right in front of their eyes.

It was that insufferable Qui-Gon Jinn who had tipped them off to his true identity. That accursed fool who had sheltered Skywalker from him and passed over Kenobi's potential for a mere slave.

It was true that Palpatine would've given almost anything at one time to turn the Jedi's precious Chosen One to the Dark Side. But now he had Kenobi, who had far surpassed what Palpatine had expected. The Dark Side had made him strong, stronger than perhaps even the Chosen One.

However, he had one flaw – his mutinous thoughts.

Oh, yes. He knew all about his pathetic plan, his need for revenge, and his desire to kill him. Had these thoughts not included Palpatine's own death, he might've encouraged them. However, he would not allow himself to be slain by his own Apprentice. Only fools allowed that to happen…

But he could not kill Darth Dementor. Not yet. He still had need of him.

The Jedi were coming to Korriban. If they were smart, they would send at least two of their strongest Jedi, perhaps even Master Yoda. Obviously, it was too big of a threat for Palpatine to face them himself – but Lord Dementor could.

He wouldn't survive.

_Good._

It would keep him safe and take care of his dirty work for him.

A win-win situation.

-----

"Luminara," the quiet voice called her over to the shadows where the silhouette of a man – a Jedi – stood, hood raised to cover his features.

But the hood could do nothing to disguise his height.

She instantly recognized him as Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon, my friend," she greeted. She hadn't spoken to the maverick Jedi in quite some time, her time filled with missions and reports and her Padawan, Barriss Offee, who would be staying behind on this latest endeavor.

Thankfully, the Council had decided that bringing down a Sith Lord was far too dangerous for a Padawan and had given her their permission to leave her Apprentice at the Temple while she and Master Yaddle went to Korriban. Barriss had been upset, for she had always been at her Master's side no matter what dangers lay ahead, but had released her emotions into the Force and wished her safety and speedy return. There were more important things to worry about than whether or not she was able to join Luminara. The safety of the galaxy depended upon the success of this mission.

"What can I do for you?"

"I need," he said, "to know where you're going."

She eyed him suspiciously. To prevent the knowledge of their mission from leaking out to Palpatine somehow, the Council had forbidden them from speaking of their destination. Qui-Gon's demand for information put her on her guard, though she knew he would never betray the Jedi. "Why?"

He sighed wearily. "He killed Obi-Wan. I just want to know where the body of my Padawan lies."

Guilt spread through her for distrusting him, even for that split-second. "The Council forbid – "

"_Please_, Luminara." He was practically pleading with her, but she thought she had felt a hint of something in those words – deception, perhaps? No, it couldn't be. It was probably just the pain he felt. She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to lose Barriss…

Therefore, despite the Council's order, she told him.

-----

He was twenty standard years old. He couldn't believe it.

Today was Anakin's Life Day, and while the Council didn't approve of Life Day celebrations, Bant had allowed him to invite Darra and Tru over (if their Masters gave them their permissions, of course) to relax and enjoy themselves.

The three friends were currently sitting in the common room, drinking muja juice and talking about anything that came to mind.

Anakin couldn't remember enjoying himself so much.

On his last Life Day, he had been on a deadly mission with Qui-Gon to a hostile planet teetering on the edge of civil war. _Fun_.

"We should go swimming," Tru suggested, eyes bright.

Anakin made a face. "Are you kidding me? I practically live in the water." He made a wide, sweeping motion with his hand, referring to the moist air that reminded his Master of her homeworld. He didn't mind it so much in his room, which was devoid of the misty, salty air, or in the common room, which Bant had kindly decreased so he would be comfortable in their joint quarters. But he dared not step foot in her room, which had been set on 'full.' He was sure he would practically drown if he walked into her room.

Shrugging, Darra inhaled deeply. She had move past Ferus's death and was now back to her usual self, thank the Force. He hated to see her in pain. "It's not _that_ bad in here. You're being dramatic."

"A Jedi doesn't get dramatic."

His silvery-skinned friend snorted. "Since when is _that_ written on the Council doors?" The Jedi Code was inscribed on the doors leading to the Jedi High Council room to remind the Jedi of their actions.

"Well, it doesn't say that _exactly…_"

"But that's what it means," finished Tru skeptically. "You're so full of bantha droppings."

The three friends laughed as there was a knock on the door. Anakin waited for Bant to get it before realizing that she had gone to the Healer's ward to work.

"Are you going to get that," Tru asked when there was another knock.

"Yes," Anakin replied, shooting Tru a dirty look before waving his hand, using the Force to open the door. On top of Life Day celebrations, the Council also disproved of using the Force for personal conveniences such as that, but Anakin was far too comfortable to get out of his chair.

The door slid open, revealing Qui-Gon Jinn.

Immediately, the three Padawans sprang from their seats and bowed respectfully, uttering variations of "Master Jinn."

"Hello, Anakin, Darra, Tru." He seemed hesitant or nervous, though neither of those feelings flickered through their bond. In fact, Anakin couldn't feel anything at all from Qui-Gon's side. He was shielding him from his thoughts.

Pain stabbed through Anakin's chest. They used to be so close… Now his former Master wouldn't even open his mind up to him anymore.

"Happy Life Day."

"Thank you."

Qui-Gon's eyes flickered from Tru, to Darra, then back to him. "I was hoping we might be able to talk."

_Alone_ went unsaid, but Darra caught his meaning and kicked Tru in the ankle when he didn't. "Tru, don't you still have to do that…thing for Master Ry-Gaul?"

"What thing?"

"You know, the thing he asked you to do this morning. The one. You. Never. Did."

"He never – _Ohhh…_" Anakin stifled a chuckle. "That thing. Right."

The two Padawans hurried out of the room, past Qui-Gon. "We'll be back," Tru told Anakin. "I just gotta do that…thing."

He nodded, and with a wave of his hand, shut the door, leaving him and Qui-Gon in the room alone.

Awkward.

He sighed. When had spending time with the man he loved like a father become so awkward?

"Have a seat," he said, motioning to the now-vacant couch. Qui-Gon reached the couch in a few powerful strides and sat down, his eyes never leaving Anakin.

"Padawan-mine," he began, then shook his head as if suddenly remembering that Anakin was no longer his Padawan. "Anakin, I never…" The large man sighed. "I've been so preoccupied since returning to the Temple that I never found a chance to explain to you why I left."

Anakin's eyes went wide. _That_ was what this was all about?

"While on Naboo," Qui-Gon began, launching into his story. "My old Master, Count Dooku, contacted me and told me about Palpatine. Though he was a Separatist, I felt no deception in his words. Then, he asked me to join him, to help him destroy the Sith. At that moment, I knew I had to go. I had to… I had to protect you from him. I had always been wary of the man; he tried too hard to be in your presence. As soon as Dooku confirmed my suspicions, I knew that had I left you alone with the Chancellor, he would've tried to seduce you to the Dark Side."

Anakin felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

"I wouldn't let him continue to try. I had to protect you, Anakin. I'm sorry I left you hurt and confused on Tatooine. I'm sorry I abandoned you and forced you to have another Master, but I did what I felt was necessary to save you, even if it hurt you at the time. I'm not sorry for that. I'll never be sorry for that. I lost one Padawan to the Dark Side and another at the hands of the Sith Lord. I'm not about to lose you too."

_He did it for me…_ Everything became so much clearer to him. All the hidden resentment he had held for Qui-Gon disappeared in an instant. Before he realized what he was doing, Anakin flung his arms around Qui-Gon's neck and pulled him into a hug. Instantly, Qui-Gon's side of the bond opened again as he hugged him back, flooding Anakin with feelings of love, joy, and caring.

He had missed Qui-Gon so much. "I love you, Master."

"And I, you."

-----

"Ow!"

Bant rolled her eyes. "Sit still, Garen."

"That hurt," he whined.

Her friend could be such a big baby sometimes… "How in the name of the Force did you get this burn?" she asked, peeling back the charred edges of his tunic to inspect the wound on his shoulder.

He winced. "Ow. I was sparring," he said.

"With whom? Master Yoda?" She rubbed bacta on it gently. It was a very nasty burn, but nothing that wouldn't heal, as long as Garen managed to keep it from getting infected. She didn't want to have to watch his every movement to make sure he was keeping it clean like she had so many times before with him and Obi-Wan. _Boys_, she reminisced with a shake of her head.

"Are you saying I'm not strong enough to beat Yoda in a sparring match?" He shot her a faux hurt look as she giggled her answer, laying a bandage over his wound.

"Done. Make sure to keep it clean and dry. And don't forget to put bacta on it and change the dressing every day until it heals."

It was Garen's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know the drill."

"I know," Bant replied with a smile, dropping into a chair next to the bed he was sitting on.

"Long day?"

"Very slow." It seemed like no one in the Temple was in need of a Healer's attention, not even the Younglings. While she knew she should be grateful that no one was injured, it made the day incredibly boring, especially since she was the only Healer on call. She was very thankful Garen had been burnt; though, she wouldn't admit that to him.

"Bant?" he asked after a moment of comfortable silence. Sometimes friends didn't need words.

"Yes, Garen?"

"Do you enjoy having a Padawan?"

The question surprised her, but immediately, she knew the answer. "Yes, more than I ever thought I would. It's like…" She struggled with the words. She had never had to explain it before. "It's like a void I'd had since my Knighting had been filled." She smiled. "I always told Obi-Wan that taking a Padawan would be good for him. I never knew how good it would be for me."

He tilted his head curiously. "Really?"

She nodded. "Now I think I finally understand how Tahl and Kit felt."

And it was true. She had always known a Master-Padawan relationship from a Padawan's perspective, but she had never realized how attached to a Padawan a Master could feel, although attachment was forbidden. She knew without a doubt that Tahl and Kit had felt the same caring and devotion for her that she felt for Anakin. Although they hadn't even been Master and Padawan for a year, they already had formed a bond. She knew for a fact that it wasn't as strong as the one he and Qui-Gon shared, nor would it ever be. But it was still there, strong and vibrant. She didn't regret for a second taking on the Senior Padawan.

"I think I want to take a Padawan," he told her hesitantly.

Her face lit up and she hugged him, careful not to bump his burn. "Oh, Garen, that's wonderful! Do you have someone in mind?"

He paled. "Um…no?"

"That doesn't matter," she reassured him. "You can go watch the Initiates spar. Maybe the Force will guide you to someone there."

Garen mulled over her words, then asked her warily, as if afraid to hear the answer. "So you think I'll be a good Master?"

Bant just giggled. He would be the _best_.

-----

Qui-Gon hated having to deceive Luminara, and he hated that he was leaving Anakin again, but he had no choice.

He would go to Korriban.

He would fight the Sith.

He would protect Anakin.

He would be so grateful once this horrible ordeal was finally over – when Sidious was finally disposed of, when the galaxy was safe…

It was only a half-lie he had told Luminara, he realized. He wanted to retrieve Obi-Wan's body and bring it back to Coruscant for a proper funeral. He just wanted to kill the Sith before he did so.

It wasn't revenge, no matter what Mace said.

Letting out a slow, calm breath, he started up the engines to his "borrowed" ship and punched in the coordinates for Korriban.

He should arrive not long after Yaddle and Luminara.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Will Obi-Wan survive against the Jedi? Will Qui-Gon discover Obi-Wan's identity? These questions and more shall be answered in Chapter Nine: Yellow Eyes. I hope you will stay tuned as the plot is quickly unfolding. Don't be too shy to review!


	9. Chapter Nine: Familiar Yellow Eyes

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Ah, m'dears, I am so, so sorry about the long wait between updates. School is...bleh. But, in honor of the end of my last first semester of high school, and because I can barely move after playing ultimate spoons for two hours yesterday (for those of who don't know, ultimate spoons is just like spoons, except for the fact that the spoons are placed as far away from the group of card players as possible, and when someone gets four of a kind, everyone has to run over to the spoons and get one - it's fun), I have decided to update with this pretty long, very important, sad chapter. And now, I shall watch a very long movie and enjoy my painkillers!

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Nine: Familiar Yellow Eyes

-----

_A dark, unrecognizable presence…_

_Familiar, loathsome yellow eyes…_

_"You."_

-----

"Lord Dementor." The hiss broke Dementor's concentration from a datapad. He quickly hid the hand-held device with a low growl, for it contained all his notes and thoughts on what Sidious had told him, and it reminded him of what he still needed to get:

The coordinates to Kamino.

His Master was unwilling to part from such valuable knowledge. There was no doubt that Sidious suspected him; he would be a fool not to.

"Yes, Master?"

"We have underestimated the Jedi." _We_, Dementor thought with a huff. _No, _you_ did._ "They will be arriving on Korriban soon."

_What?_ "They're coming here?"

Sidious nodded gravely. "Yes, my young Apprentice."

Dementor inhaled sharply. The Jedi were coming to Korriban. Those blasted idiots thought they could actually beat the two greatest Sith who had ever lived? He wanted to laugh. The Jedi scum wouldn't last five minutes against him and his Master. Not even that old troll Yoda would be able to stop the wrath they would bestow upon them.

Blundering idiots… Dementor couldn't wait to run them through with his lightsaber, to show them how much more powerful he had become since they abandoned him to die.

How their plan had failed to succeed…

"Lord Dementor, go to the surface and wait for them there."

"You're not coming, my Master?"

Darth Sidious let out a long, slow breath. "No, I am not." At this, Dementor glared suspiciously at the dark void beneath Sidious's hood. He had a bad feeling about this. "You are more than capable of defeating the Jedi by yourself. They will be no match for you."

Bowing in concordance, Darth Dementor, with a swish of his black robes, left the room and made his way to Korriban's surface, unable to shake the feeling that something horribly wrong was about to take place.

-----

He was waiting for them when they arrived.

He led them into a corner, baiting them with his Force signature, dark and unrecognizable, easily confused with Darth Sidious's…

They followed him into a canyon with only one exit. _Fools…_ They were trapped. He had them on his terms, a strong advantage.

He stepped out, blocking the only exit, crimson lightsaber ignited and a taunting sneer on his half-hidden face.

They knew they were trapped.

His yellow eyes peered out from underneath his hood to find two familiar faces watching him warily.

Yaddle and Luminara Unduli.

He cursed and faltered. Sidious had betrayed him.

The two Jedi were strong. And Sidious had known.

He clenched the hilt of his lightsaber in rage, feeling the power course through it.

He was strong too.

He would survive.

With that, he leapt.

-----

Back on Coruscant, Yoda felt a surge in the Dark Side of the Force.

It had begun.

-----

The fight was brutal, a mesh of clashing lightsabers and Force attacks.

The lightsabers sizzled and popped, creating a show of color of the rocky walls.

Dementor roughly Force-pushed Luminara, sending her careening into a protruding rock with a satisfactory thud. His fingers closed around an imaginary throat, slowly sucking the Life Force from her.

Yaddle's lightsaber swung out of nowhere.

He swore and rolled to the side to avoid losing a valuable limb. He lost his concentration on Luminara, who fell to her knees and began gasping for breath.

A growl escaped his lips as he tightened his grip on his lightsaber. Yaddle would pay for that…

-----

"Master, there's something wrong with the Force."

"What do you mean, Anakin?"

"It's dark. Can't you feel it?"

-----

Their lightsabers spun in an unrecognizable haze before crashing together, the sizzle it created echoing around them.

They were locked in a stalemate. Dementor put all his weight on his lightsaber, hoping to drive her back, but Yaddle simply countered it.

His hand trembled under the pressure.

Perspiration dotted his forehead; his teeth grit together in concentration.

He wasn't going to let her win.

Ducking as he suddenly stepped backwards, he watched Yaddle stumble and fall, his weight no longer keeping her upright.

He advanced on her, twirling his lightsaber, bringing it down on the green Jedi Master.

But Luminara's blade, instead of flesh, met his own.

He hissed at her and was soon fighting both Jedi Masters, as Yaddle was on her feet in no time.

Suddenly, he was flying through the air, the result of a Force-push by the Mirialan Jedi.

_Payback_, he thought wryly, calling his Sith blade to him as the two Jedi leapt towards him.

He countered their stabs and wide swings, leaping onto a large rock to gain the high ground, a basic ingredient in victory.

-----

"Worry, I do, for Yaddle and Luminara. Strong the Dark Side is."

"There is a great disturbance in the Force."

"Mmm."

-----

He slashed viciously, his anger and rage pouring out in powerful attacks.

He could feel the Dark Side flowing through him, allowing him power he had never dreamed of.

He was on the offensive now, while the Jedi scum before him tried in vain to parry his ferocious swings, stabs, and cuts.

Malicious laughter bubbled up. They could not stop him. He was far more powerful than they would ever be.

He should probably thank them for abandoning him to die, for it had made him more powerful than any other being in the galaxy.

"Foolish Jedi," he hissed, kicking Yaddle in the face. She flipped in mid-air and landed back on her feet as the duel between Luminara and Dementor heated up, their lightsabers just a blur of color as they wielded them against each other.

Yaddle was soon back in this fray of chaos, another lightsaber added to the mix.

-----

The Force guided Qui-Gon down to the surface of Korriban. He could see the flash of conflicting lightsabers on the horizon as he set the ship down a good distance away.

He did not want to alert the Sith to his presence.

-----

A rock collided with his arm as it whizzed past.

He fell from his perch, cursing the Jedi as pain gripped his appendage.

Yaddle and Luminara wasted no time in attacking him.

He Force-leapt out of their path, twisting in mid-air and landing behind them.

He slashed, bringing his lightsaber around to cut them both in half with one fell swoop.

Luminara's standard issue hard-soled boot met his jaw.

He stumbled. Pain erupted in his head like a volcano on the planet Mustafar.

His hood slipped.

The Jedi faltered.

Dementor smirked, remembering a time similar to this, when another Jedi wavered as he revealed himself. Those pathetic fools… Had they really thought they could get rid of him so easily?

"Surprised?"

Before either could answer, he brought his lightsaber around in a powerful arch, separating the head from Luminara's shoulders.

It rolled to his feet as her body collapsed in an ungraceful heap of robes.

He bared his teeth at Yaddle as if to say "You're next."

She leapt.

-----

Barriss Offee sank to the floor with a strangled gasp in the middle of the lightsaber training salle.

Her sparring partner deactivated his lightsaber with a _snap-hiss_ and knelt beside her worriedly. "What's wrong?"

A sob. "She's dead."

-----

The darkness grew stronger as he made his way towards the sounds of lightsabers hissing and cracking.

The Force screamed warnings of danger and pain to Qui-Gon, but he pressed onward.

It wasn't the first time.

Grunts and muffled words echoed off the rocky walls surrounding him.

The battle was fierce, of that he was sure.

He gripped the hilt of his lightsaber firmly, unsure of what he would meet when he rounded the corner.

Whatever he had been expecting, it was nothing like what he found.

Luminara's body lay in a heap off to one side, her head a meter-and-a-half away.

In the middle of the canyon were two dueling figures. The first was undoubtedly Master Yaddle, and the second, dressed in black robes and wielding a crimson lightsaber appeared to be –

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon gasped, losing his equilibrium and sinking to his knees.

It couldn't be… It wasn't possible…

He wanted to scream out in absolute joy. It _was_ Obi-Wan; he was alive. He son, whom he had thought was gone forever, was _alive._

And he was the Sith.

"No," he whispered. _No no no no no no no._

Obi-Wan would never turn. He wouldn't…

_He couldn't._

The sounds of the duel stopped as the two finally took notice of him.

Obi-Wan's head turned.

Loathsome yellow eyes glared at him…

"You."

Qui-Gon's breath caught in his chest as Obi-Wan advanced on him, rage consuming his once-calm features.

_Obi-Wan has fallen._

Icy tendrils of pain gripped his heart.

He shuddered.

_He is a Sith._

Suddenly, Yaddle swung her lightsaber and scorched Obi-Wan's leg, deterring him from reaching Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon wanted to scream at her for harming Obi-Wan. What right did she have?

Every right.

_Obi-Wan has turned to the Dark Side._

No, he wouldn't believe it.

He couldn't.

Not even when Obi-Wan hissed at Yaddle and Force-leapt over Qui-Gon, escaping into the shadows. Not even when Yaddle wearily placed a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. Not even when she knelt beside the body of Luminara, ears drooping in sorrow.

Not even when he remembered how familiar those cold, cruel yellow eyes had been.

Not even then.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: My heart broke for Qui-Gon when I wrote this. Stay tuned for Chapter Ten: The Beginning of the End, and don't forget to review!

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	10. Chapter Ten: The Beginning of the End

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued. However, I do own Creche Master Ado Staet.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Hello all! I was going to wait until tomorrow to upload this chapter, since tomorrow is the one year anniversary of this part of the story, but as tomorrow is Superbowl Sunday, I decided to update a day early for all you football fans...or commercial fans. I'll be honest...I usually only watch for the commercials, though I am rooting for the Colts. But I digress...enjoy!

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Ten: The Beginning of the End

-----

"Traitor."

"Dementor…you're alive."

"Surprised, _Master_?"

A pause. Then, "On the contrary, my Apprentice. I knew you would pass this final trial. You are now a true Sith."

He laughed hollowly, cruelty springing forth from the deepest reaches of his being. He was not a brainwashed pawn in Sidious's grand scheme. He had been fooled once by the Jedi – only a true fool would allow himself to be fooled twice.

Darth Dementor was no fool.

"I must say, Sidious, it was a brilliant plan." Cold, calculating eyes met his own. "You had me convinced right until the Jedi arrived. Oh, by the way, I'm afraid Master Unduli will no longer be in the service of the Jedi, since her head has somehow become detached from her body. She was always a bit, er, _scatterbrained._"

The only thing perhaps more unnerving than his calm, dry demeanor was his sneer. It was cruel, evil.

Sinister.

"There was an unexpected visitor as well: Qui-Gon Jinn. I was unable to greet him properly, but I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon enough.

"He seemed quite shocked to see me – even fell to his knees. Can't imagine why…" He was taunting Sidious with his tone, baiting him. Of course, a powerful Sith Lord such as the Dark Lord did not easily falter by words and tones, but it created a sort of vindictive pleasure for Dementor nonetheless.

Revenge, in a mild form, soon to be joined by something bigger, more powerful…_brutal_.

A cackle from Sidious filled the void where silence had reigned only seconds before. He was rising from his chair ominously, the eyes beneath his hood calm, if not mildly amused.

Dementor did not falter.

This was a battle of wits.

"Dear boy, it appear I overestimated your powers…" He resisted the urge to ask him to explain. Yet, it seemed Sidious would with or without an inquiry. "After all, I give you three powerful Jedi for you to…take care of, yet you only manage to destroy one. How disappointing…" The corners of his mouth turned upward into a sneer.

Rage coursed through him, barely suppressed by a clenched fist, knuckles white as the frigid snow on Hoth. _Not now, not yet…_

"The art of lying seems to be leaving you, Palpatine. That's the best you can do? A Crecheling could see through that pathetic attempt." With mild pleasure, he saw the Sith Lord clench his jaw. "Nevertheless," he continued, "you wish me disposed. I don't blame you, since I _am_ planning your downfall. You see, I have plans of my own, and I'm afraid they don't include you." He waved his hand distractedly. "I'm sure you already know this – why else would you be willing to have the Jedi kill your best and most powerful Apprentice – but I felt you deserved to hear it from my own mouth before I kill you."

They were circling the room now, like hunting bat-hawks on Coruscant, enraged yellow eyes locked with devious golden orbs. "Your arrogance blinds you, Dementor. I am more powerful than you will ever be. You cannot possibly hope to win."

Dementor grinned maliciously. How little he knew… "I am more powerful than you think, _Master_."

His hands sprung from his side, and the Dark Side of the Force poured from his fingertips in the form of white-hot lightning. Sidious, caught unawares, collapsed to the ground, wriggling and writhing in pain. The Dark Side surged around him like a crashing Nabooian waterfall.

It was delicious.

He saw everything. He controlled everything. He _was_ everything.

-----

Darkness was replaced by darkness.

The galaxy shuddered.

-----

"Shh, young ones," Creche Master Ado Staet spoke gently to his charges. They wailed in pain and desperation, their cries becoming one hopeless scream.

They had felt the disturbance in the Force.

"Don't worry, little ones. The Force will protect us."

But would it?

-----

"Master, what was that?"

"I don't know, Tru. But it may be the beginning of the end."

-----

_Dark and dangerous times lie ahead._

-----

"Obi-Wan…what have you done?"

-----

Yoda was waiting for them on the landing pad when they returned. One green claw lay on top of the other, both resting on the gimer stick in front of him. His eyes were closed, his facial features relaxed, the perfect picture of a serene Jedi Master.

But inside, questions churned, yearning to be answered.

The ship landed in front of him. His eyes, now open, flickered to the body of Luminara, to Yaddle's weariness, and finally, to Qui-Gon.

"Death, I feel, and terrible pain. What has happened?"

-----

His feet pounded on the carpeted halls in rhythm with his frantic heart. Whispers followed him, but whether they were spoken or inside his own mind, he didn't know.

Either way, they wouldn't be silenced.

"He's alive."

The words escaped his lips before he realized, and they were followed by another thought – a dark, painful one:

_He's turned_.

He didn't want to believe it. But…

He'd talked to Yaddle, who'd seen…who'd seen the monster he'd become.

It was true.

He felt sick.

_He was my best friend. He was my best friend, and now he's…_

Gone.

Dead once more. Consumed by the power of the Dark Side.

No longer a Jedi Knight, a guardian of peace and justice in the galaxy, but a creature of darkness, of evil…

A Sith Lord.

The pain hurt worse this time.

"Garen!"

_Sith._ He skidded to a halt, turning ever-so-slightly to glance the face of his summoner.

Bant.

In his desperation to flee the Temple and his inner turmoil, he hadn't noticed passing her on his way to the turbolift, nor had he realized he and she were on the same floor.

"I've just returned from the Med Center," she was saying, her large, silver eyes filled with worry and sorrow that aged her salmon-colored face. "They brought us Luminara…" Garen nodded slowly. "We've known Palpatine's the Sith Lord for quite some time, but still…I can't believe he would betray the Republic like that – betray us."

His throat constricted. The news of Obi-Wan's turning had yet to spread throughout the Temple, and Bant has been confined to the Healer's ward since Yaddle and Qui-Gon's return in any case.

Why did the Force have to be so cruel as to make him tell her?

"Bant…" He took a deep breath, trying hard and failing miserably to release his emotions into the Force. This wasn't fair…

_It rarely is._

The voice of his Master, Clee Rhara, filled him with the strength that had been evading him only moments ago.

_Release your pain, your anger, and your sorrow. Obi-Wan has made his choice. Will you follow him?_

_No_, he thought grimly.

"Luminara wasn't killed by Palpatine." His voice was calm and quiet. He had to do this.

Bant shook her head. "I don't understand. She was killed by a lightsaber. Are you suggesting Yaddle or Qui-Gon killed her?"

_I might as well be…_ He hesitated, the words struggling to form. "Obi-Wan killed her."

"That's not funny, Garen," Bant replied after a moment of incredulous silence. Her face was set and her eyes hard. For all her quiet kindness, Bant Eerin was a force to be reckoned with.

"It's not," he agreed. There was nothing remotely funny about it at all.

"Obi-Wan is dead, and you're making jokes about him? Why would you do something like that?"

A long, weary sigh escaped his lips. "I'm not making jokes. Obi-Wan's alive – and he's a Sith. Yaddle told me."

"Stop, Garen. Don't dishonor his memory with such lies."

"Obi-Wan turned to the Dark Side," he repeated, louder than before, taking a step towards the Mon Calamari. She backed away quickly.

"Please, Garen…"

Garen's gaze dropped to the floor as he rubbed his temple. _Obi-Wan…why?_ Why did he cause them so much pain? Didn't he realize how much they already hurt? They had already lost so many friends…yet this pain ran far deeper than any death.

This was what betrayal felt like.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: I just want to point out that the line _'Dark and dangerous times lie ahead'_ is a modified version of the line from _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ (movie), "Dark and difficult times lie ahead, Harry."

Thanks to all my lovely reviewers for their continued support! I still can't believe it's been a year since I uploaded the first chapter of Revenge. The board has been set and now the game is commencing. I hope you'll all stick around for the ride, and as always, don't forget to review!

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	11. Chapter Eleven: Flames

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: School has been closed for two days due to cold weather. Therefore, in celebration, I decided to update. It's not extraordinarily long, yet I must say it's one of my favorite chapters of this story so far. I absolutely adore it, and I hope you guys like it to.

A little note: the first part is best when read with the second part of track 16 on the Episode I soundtrack (_Qui-Gon's Funeral_). It adds a whole different layer to the writing.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Eleven: Flames

-----

The room was silent except for the crackling flames. Shadows danced on the walls; the acrid smell of burnt flesh and hair overwhelmed the grieving crowd.

The Jedi were saying goodbye to another one of their number.

Barriss stood in the front, closest to the funeral pyre. Her olive skin was wet with tears, yet her eyes, for this moment and this moment alone, were dry and accepting. Next to her stood Master Yoda, his attention rapt on the licking flames. To his right stood Mace Windu, hood of his dark robes pulled over his head, his eyes unfocused as he journeyed through a galaxy of thoughts and questions.

Directly opposite Padawan Offee was Yaddle, her ears drooping and her heart heavy with sorrow and the fate of the galaxy. Behind her, Adi Gallia and her cousin, Stass Allie, stood next to the Council members Saesee Tiin and Kit Fisto. Next to Kit, Aayla Secura sighed wearily.

It was behind Aayla where Bant, Garen, and Reeft (who had recently returned from a mission) silently honored Luminara. Hoods hiding their faces, they stared hard into the flames, willing the Force to admit that this was all some cruel joke, that tomorrow they'd wake up and the galaxy would be set right. Palpatine would be just a man, the Dark Side would not be growing, Obi-Wan would still be a Jedi.

But it was not to be.

The three Padawans in the back of the funeral chamber knew this. Hoods covering their faces in exact mirror images of their respective Masters, they discussed current issues in hushed undertow. No one deterred them, for many similar conversations were taking place in the chambers and across the Temple. The news was too grave not to be discussed.

"He always seemed so kind," Darra noted quietly, her eyes flickering from the charring remains of the Jedi Master to her two companions.

Anakin merely snorted, his eyes sweeping the roomful of Jedi. Qui-Gon was strangely absent.

"Yeah, when he was around," Tru added sarcastically. "Didn't you notice how often he was gone? I bet he wasn't on missions at all. I bet he was with Palpatine, making plans to rule the galaxy."

"Don't be ignorant, Tru," the golden-haired girl said with a slight air of superiority. "Yoda wouldn't have let him into the Temple if he had been a Sith for that long."

"Yoda didn't know," Anakin countered, coming to Tru's aid, stunned and upset that she would actually defend that murderer. "No one on the Council felt Kenobi turn. If they had, Master Unduli wouldn't be dead," he added darkly. _And Qui-Gon wouldn't be locked up in his quarters, mourning that Sith scum…_

His two friends remained silent, as if reading his thoughts. He growled darkly. This was all Kenobi's fault. Because of him, both his former Master and his current Master were hurting. Because of him, a Padawan was now Master-less. Because of him, the Force spoke warnings of dark days and of the loss of friends.

It was all the Sith's fault.

Why couldn't he have just stayed dead?

-----

"Kriffing Jedi," Dementor muttered with a grunt as he applied bacta to his badly burnt leg, a parting gift from Master Yaddle.

Palpatine's body smoldered in the corner as the dying flames disintegrated his aged skin. Jedi tradition or not, Dementor didn't want to stare at his betrayer's body any longer, another name to add to his list of traitorous Masters.

He didn't care anymore. Dementor had no Master. Dementor needed no Master.

_He_ was the Master now. And a powerful Master he was.

When he struck, the Jedi would be no match against him. He would destroy their Order, making way for his own rule. The galaxy would bow to him, and the Jedi mentioned only as a hokey religion, not the guardians of peace and justice.

Peace, justice. Ha. There had never been such things. He would release the ensnared Republic of their delusions that the Jedi were great heroes by showing them that not even their revered Jedi could save their beloved Republic from his iron fist.

When the galaxy realized how blind they had been, they would thank him, honor him, _love_ him. The rule of Lord Dementor would be talked about for milleniums to come, praised in the highest manner, and discussed with the utmost respect.

He would be a hero, and his revenge upon the Jedi would be complete.

"Yes, my Lord?" The voice crackled over the transmission.

"Fett, this is Lord Dementor." His voice was calm and precise, with an edge sharp enough to split a grain of Tatooine sand. "The Jedi have overcome my Master, Lord Sidious."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the bounty hunter on the other end of the comm transmission relayed, though his apathetic tone betrayed his words.

"As am I," Dementor lied coolly. "However, before my Master died, he adamantly insisted that I continue on with his plans. Unfortunately, his wounds were very grave, and he died before revealing the coordinates of Kamino to me." His face twisted into a wicked grin. "Since I know for a fact that you live on said hidden planet, I would be most gracious if you would give me the coordinates so I may fulfill my Master's dying wish. You will be rewarded quite handsomely," he added.

There was a pause on the other end, and, for a moment, Dementor feared he might not take the bait. But then, the comm crackled, and Jango's voice rang loud and clear from the hand-held unit. "Of course, my Lord. I will be happy to assist you as I have assisted Lord Sidious."

"Good."

-----

Twelve chairs lined the outer rim of the circular room at the top of the Southeast tower. The transparisteel windows gave way to the majestic skyline of Coruscant, the large city-planet abuzz with activity.

It was evening in this part of Coruscant; the orange glow of the sunset washed over the Temple, bathing each member of the Council in a warm light. Sunset was a time of serenity, but inside the Council chambers, the air buzzed with chaos similar to Coruscant's traffic lanes.

"We must protect ourselves against this new threat!"

"No one is disagreeing with you, Ki-Adi," Mace Windu replied solemnly. "But we cannot protect ourselves against what we don't know. We do not know what Kenobi is capable of."

"Strong he is," Yaddle chimed in with a sigh, "in the Dark Side of the Force. A dangerous enemy he is."

Yoda's gaze remained fixed on the shining durasteel of Coruscant's skyscrapers as the conversation continued around him. No conclusion would be reached that night, nor, perhaps, the next five. This was a deep loss for the Jedi and a dangerous one. Obi-Wan Kenobi had been a strong Jedi Knight, skilled with a lightsaber and wise beyond his years. Yet the Dark Side would make him even more so, and if the Jedi did not proceed carefully, Yoda knew he would destroy them all.

"What do you think he's fashioned himself?" Plo Koon spoke up for the first time.

"Does it matter?" Adi Gallia replied sharply.

Mace nodded in concordance. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead to the Jedi. He has chosen to follow the Dark Side."

"Mmm," Yoda sighed, placing one clawed hand upon his chin. It was a testament to his wisdom that everyone stopped speaking to allow the venerable green Jedi Master a few words. "Kinder, death would have been for young Obi-Wan, than this fate. Once traveled down the dark path you have, forever will it consume you.

"Mmm," he repeated, though this time to himself rather than his friends. He had always been fond of Obi-Wan. It had been Yoda who had discovered him, the four-standard-month-old son of a moderately wealthy businessman on the other side of Coruscant. He had trained the boy as an Initiate, watched over him, and observed his progress. Though Yoda didn't play favorites, he had always taken special joy in watching Obi-Wan interact with fellow Initiates, even when they impersonated him.

Yoda had been so fond of Obi-Wan, in fact, that when he learned that Qui-Gon would not take him as his Padawan, he had thrust them together on the same transport to Bandomeer, in hopes that Qui-Gon's stubborn mind would change. Thankfully, it had, but had it not, Yoda would've been most willing to take on Obi-Wan as his Padawan.

Yes, Yoda had been attached to the boy, as Obi-Wan had been to Yoda.

When had that changed? When had Obi-Wan, who had fought so hard to be a Jedi, been willing to give up his life and home for the powers of the Dark Side?

When had Obi-Wan first slipped into darkness?

"He's always hidden his emotions from the Council," Ki-Adi-Mundi was declaring, "instead of casting them into the Force."

"I've felt them as well," Saesee Tiin agreed. "But I never – "

"Never what?" Depa Billiba interrupted quietly. "Thought they'd lead him to the Dark Side?"

Shaak Ti sighed, stroking one of her striped lekku. "We've always warned against emotions. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' The Code was created for a reason."

"Better Jedi than Obi-Wan Kenobi have been lost to the Dark Side," Agen Kolar commented. "We were lulled into a false sense of security by Palpatine. We reacted exactly as he wanted us to. Who knows what he might've told Obi-Wan to get him to join him."

Yoda nodded slowly, lost in thought. "Power and wealth I do not think he offered him. Something else, something stronger…"

"Perhaps never know, we shall," Yaddle added, her right ear twitching.

Yoda's gaze shifted out of the room, back to the chaotic skies of Coruscant. The sunset shone a brilliant blood red; flames danced on the durasteel exteriors of the magnificent buildings, reflecting up beyond the hazy atmosphere and into the stars.

On one of those stars, Yoda knew, a young man held their futures in his hands.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Yoda's suspicions are closer to the truth than he realizes, methinks. If only they had realized that Obi-Wan had turned earlier, perhaps they wouldn't be in this mess. What'd you think about this chapter? Don't be afraid to review and tell me! Or perhaps you have predictions about future events? I'm all ears. Or maybe it's a question: I'll try to answer it as thoroughly as possible without giving too much away.

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	12. Chapter Twelve: The Galaxy

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Happy Valentine's Day, everybody! This chapter is quite apropos for the day... You'll see what I mean.

Also, feel free to check out my latest oneshot Grey Hair and Dry Humor and tell me what you think.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Twelve: The Galaxy

-----

The door palmed open.

"Adi? I didn't expect to see you today."

"Hell, Qui-Gon."

The Corellian Jedi stepped inside the tiny, single occupancy quarters, her sharp eyes sweeping around the room and setting upon a half-open container resting precariously on the edge of a side table. The container itself was nothing special, a simple, unmarked plastoid box – rectangular in nature – a space-saver, nothing more. However, it was the contents of the box that interested Adi Gallia. For hanging off one side, as if hastily thrown in without so much as a glance, was a thin, ginger-haired braid.

Qui-Gon stepped in front of her, obscuring any further examination, and so her eyes traveled to his face. Whatever she had been expecting to find in the man who had been dealt so much heartache, she found none of it. His expression was passive, yet not weary, his eyes calm, yet not full of hurt.

He was the perfect example of Jedi calm.

She blinked. Qui-Gon raised a solitary eyebrow. "Was there something you needed, or did you simply come for a cup of tea?"

Had his tone not been so sincere, she would've thought Qui-Gon was mocking her. "Oh, no," she answered, shaking her head. "I just wanted to stop by and – "

"And see how I am?" he finished for her, sitting on his couch with grace that no other man his size possessed.

She sighed inwardly, sitting down (at his gesture) in the chair next to him. She was disappointed, she realized. She had expected to find a sobbing wreck of a man, in vain denial of the truth. That she could deal with. _That_ she could counsel. Yet, Qui-Gon was not a sobbing wreck of a man, nor a depressed recluse. He was fine. No, he was better than fine. He was accepting, and he was moving on.

What could she say to someone who didn't need counsel?

"Yes," she admitted in defeat.

He held his arms wide, gesturing to the entire room. "What does it look like to you?"

"It looks like," she told him, "you're doing your best to pretend Obi-Wan never existed." She pointedly looked at the plastoid container. He followed her line of sight, but said nothing.

Curse him for being so stubborn. "Qui-Gon," she tried again, her voice softer this time. "No one blames you for Obi-Wan's fall." His even gaze faltered. "He made his own choices, just as we make ours."

The words were whispered so quietly she might've imagined them. "I blame myself."

"You shouldn't." Before the words had even left her lips, she knew they had been wrong. Qui-Gon didn't need a Council member to lecture him; he needed a friend.

"Two of my Padawans have turned to the Dark Side. I am unfit to be a Master."

"Nonsense. Their failure is not your fault. In time, you have to let them be responsible for their own actions." She allowed a small smile to grace her lips, a smile only a Master possessed with reflecting on memories. "You can't guide them forever."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, and Adi had the distinct impression he was trying to retain his Jedi mask and his shields. It appeared to be a losing battle. "Their turnings have come about from my inability to teach."

"What about Anakin," she reminded him sharply.

"He is not my Padawan anymore." His voice dropped a few decibels. "Besides, he almost turned…back on Tatooine."

Resisting the urge to ask him to recount the tale of Anakin's almost-fall to the Dark Side, she said, "But he didn't."

"No, not yet."

She sighed, sprawling across the chair in a rather un-Jedi-like fashion. "I know what it's like to lose a Padawan, Qui-Gon." She struggled as memories of Siri sprang forth. It seemed so long ago that she had learned of her death. It seemed even longer still that she had been her Padawan.

"You don't know what it's like to lose a Padawan to the Dark Side." His voice hovered on the edge of extreme emotional pain. She saw the battle in his face, the appearance of wrinkles that hadn't been there moments ago.

"No, I don't," she agreed sadly. And she hoped she never would. "But I do know it's the sort of hurt that not even the Force can relieve."

-----

Barriss stood in the center of the Council chambers, twelve eyes fixated upon her. Here, they would decide her fate. Now, she would discover her future.

"Though you are skilled, the Council has agreed that you are not ready to take the Trials."

"Yes, Master." Her voice was small and insignificant amidst the spacious room and intelligent beings. She had dared not raise her hopes on this matter, even if she had cared. Very few things seemed to matter now…

"Found for you, a new Master will be."

The task was not as simple as it sounded. Not only was it difficult for a senior Padawan to secure a new Master (Anakin Skywalker had been lucky), but in keeping with agreement between the Jedi and her homeworld of Mirial, Barriss had to be trained by a Mirialan Jedi – and most of them were busy with Padawans of their own.

If only Luminara were alive…

_But she isn't_, Barriss reminded herself for the umpteenth time. Luminara was dead, and no amount of wishing would bring her back.

Did she wish for revenge on Kenobi? No, a Jedi did not take revenge, but she most certainly did not wish him to remain alive. He was a monster, and Luminara would not be the last casualty of his reign. Barriss would not be the last orphaned Padawan before he was brought to justice.

Justice was what she wanted – justice for all the events that had already occurred and for everything that had not yet transpired.

-----

Stars twinkled in a black abyss. They revolved slowly around a center of white light, blinding, magnificent, and ethereal – the Deep Core.

Coruscant was set on the edge of this burst of light, as was Corellia, Alderaan, and other Core planets. This was the center of the galaxy, and to some, the most important part of it, for not only did it house the Galactic Senate (set on the largest city ever recorded), but it also held the Jedi Temple and its serene inhabitants, the most trusted – and feared – beings in the galaxy.

This was the galaxy and the life it held.

How small Aayla Secura felt at that moment…

A friendly, familiar presence entered her mind, and she turned on her heel (passing through the star that marked the Naboo system) to find Kit Fisto entering the map room with his trademark smile upon his face.

"I thought I'd find you here."

She smiled in return. Kit Fisto was her dearest friend and the one person she most trusted. "You know me too well."

Kit nodded silently, his eyes soft as they gazed at her. She turned swiftly back towards the map-reader before he noticed the small amount of blush creeping into her cheeks. So many time she had wondered…but no.

"Is everything all right?" she asked upon turning back around and finding weariness written across his face.

Aayla was the only one Kit allowed to see him so vulnerable. "It just…this whole Ob – Kenobi ordeal."

She nodded in understanding. Obi-Wan Kenobi had always been a friend of theirs, and his turning was painful to both of them, especially in the wake of Master Unduli's death.

"And to top off that," Kit continued, coming to stand next to her, "we're," he meant the Council, "still assigning Jedi to offworld missions, which I do not agree with. I believe that we should keep all Jedi within the Temple until the threat of this new Sith is discovered."

She placed her blue hand delicately on his shoulder. "The Council didn't agree?"

"No, not that I suspected they would." He sighed, to which she replied with a soft, kind smile. Kit hadn't wanted to be placed on the Jedi High Council. He'd felt he would've been better placed on the Reconciliation Council, but it was not to be. A disappointment and an privilege at the same time: the Jedi High Council was the most revered among the Jedi, and to have a place among the circle of Masters was one of the deepest honors known to them. "The galaxy is still in need of our protection," he admitted, "but how can we protect them if we're all dead?"

An unconscious shiver snaked its way up Aayla's spine. "You think Kenobi is that dangerous?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, and after a short pause, declared, "The Council was talking about sending you out."

She nodded noncommittally. She was a Jedi after all, and she would do what the Council asked of her. It was her duty, but she would be lying if she said it wasn't her one wish to protect the Republic. "Where?"

"It hasn't been decided as of yet." Suddenly, his comlink beeped, and he started at the sound. "I have to take this."

"Understandable," she replied as he walked out of the map room hurriedly, already engaged in conversation with whomever occupied the other end of the transmission.

She became aware again of the glowing stars still revolving around the room.

How insignificant they all were, compared to the size of the galaxy and the universe… What lay beyond the Outer Rim, in the uncharted regions? In another galaxy, perhaps far, far away, was there a Sith taking over as well? Were they already engaged in war, innocents and soldiers dying together on bloody fields? Was that what would become of her own beloved galaxy?

These questions continued to haunt her as she powered down the map-reader and strode out into the darkening hallways of the Jedi Temple, the glowlamps dim to provide the inhabitants with the sense of serenity and calm that now eluded young Aayla.

"And how is Kit tonight?" Lost in her thoughts – or perhaps unable to feel the presence because of extraordinary mental shielding – she hadn't noticed her former Master, Quinlan Vos, arrive at her side, matching his pace with hers.

His body looked tired, yet his dark brown eyes sparkled mischieviously. She hadn't seen him for quite some time. He had been gone, setting up an intricate spying network on the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Since the Separatists had disbanded, it only made sense that he should return home.

"Welcome back."

"Thank you," he acknowledged with a nod of his head, his long black hair shaking from the movement. "But you haven't answered my question, Aayla. How is Kit?"

She glanced suspiciously at him. Why didn't he just ask Kit himself? "Fine."

"Oh, I'm sure," he responded dryly, the trace of a smile on his lips.

_I know that tone._ "What are you implying?" Former Master of not, Quinlan Vos could be so irritating sometimes…

"Me? Implying something? Never in a millennia."

With that, he quickened his pace, leaving a very confused and slightly suspicious Aayla Secura in his wake.

"Two millenniums maybe…"

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Wow. Not a whole lot happened...which means I have very little to say. I will say, however, that I loved writing Quinlan, for however brief a time he appeared. What'd you think about this chapter? Don't be afraid to review!


	13. Chapter Thirteen: The Vision

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Ah, another chapter closer to the fate of the galaxy... A huge revelation (at least, for Qui-Gon; I know that several of you were already able to deduce it) is revealed in this chapter, as is quite a bit of Jango's backstory. I hope you enjoy!

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter Thirteen: The Vision

-----

_Fire._

_Pain._

_Anakin is standing in the Jedi Temple, in the commons just beyond the main entrance. It is late afternoon teetering on the edge of evening, still too early for entrepreneurs and senators to be heading home, but late enough for some Jedi to begin their evening meditation._

_But meditation doesn't appear to be on anyone's mind. The Jedi Temple, usually so calm and mellow, reeks of wariness and suspicion. Several Jedi guard the main entrance, where usually, one liaison sits to welcome the rare visitor._

_No classrooms or training salles are in use, though evening classes are certainly not complete. In fact, Anakin can find no trace of a youngling anywhere._

_But he can feel them. Their signatures radiate fear and confusion._

_Fire._

_Lightsabers blaze to life around him. The Force flows with foreboding._

_Pain._

_His head begins to throb, slowly at first, then stronger and faster with each beat, each pump of blood._

_His ears buzz. The noise eats at his mind like an insect. He clutches his head and falls to his knees. It isn't just noise. It is pain – horrific and absolute – tearing him apart, burning every molecule._

_He is on fire he is on fire he is on fire…_

_War suddenly rages around him. Jedi versus soldier. Brown versus white. Lightsaber versus blaster. The Temple has become a battlefield, a bloody slaughterhouse._

_Screaming._

_He is in the Council chambers. Younglings hold tightly to one another, huddling together against the transparisteel windows. Shuffles and bangs can be heard from the other side of the locked doors._

_"Do you think it's Knight Kenobi?" a youngling fearfully whispers to an older Padawan, who's name Anakin can't seem to remember._

_There is a grunt outside and, suddenly, the door opens._

_It is not Kenobi._

_Because Anakin is suddenly facing the Sith along a darkened corridor, away from the pain of battle. He looks nothing like he remembers. His mouth sneers sardonically, his face twists with demented pleasure, and his eyes…_

_There is a presence in his mind, carving his head from the inside out with a blunt spoon. He can do nothing but writhe on the ground as the world around him begins to scream bloodcurdling screeches that advertise utter torture._

_No, not the world. _He's_ screaming._

_And screaming, and screaming, and screaming…_

"ANAKIN!"

"Don't – STOP! Get it – get it out! GO! OUT! HELP!"

"Anakin, stop thrashing!"

"_Stop_! Please – out! Hurts - get away! A-AWAY! Leave me alone!"

"We need to get him to the Mind Healers. Quickly." Urgency laced with worry.

"Padawan, please…don't fight us. We're trying to hel – "

"AWAY! Master? Master – _please_! Make it stop! Make – STOP!" Arms flailed and legs kicked out in desperation, in helplessness, and in pain. Agony surged up the bond the two older Jedi shared with the writhing man in the bed, and had they not been stronger in the ways of the Force than he, both would've been knocked off their feet by the white-hot torment coursing through every cell and midichlorian with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. Every nerve ending was a supernova, bursting into flame.

Qui-Gon barely constrained a throat-tearing scream.

"OUTOUTOUT! GET OUT! AW – JUST GO _AWAY_!" Tears poured from Anakin's eyes, clenched tightly shut in pain and nightmare.

They tried to restrain his flailing limbs, but it was nearly impossible to fight the agony and a hysterical Anakin at the same time. Caught off guard, neither Qui-Gon nor Bant had been able to erect stronger shields than the usual partial shielding to parry this unseen evil.

"Anakin, wake up! WAKE UP!"

He tried to call out to Anakin through their bond, but razor-sharp tendrils of torture shattered any message sent. Anakin was too preoccupied with releasing whatever demon was trying to obliterate his mind to hear any call Qui-Gon made.

Crimson flecks of blood dotted Anakin's mouth, his throat completely torn to shreds, scratched raw by the razor-sharp fingernails of vocalized pain. They had to do something. There had to be some way to take the pain from him. Some way…

That was it.

Slowly, he lowered the few shields he had. It was a dangerous and risky trick – how many times had he warned his Padawans against trying it? – but if it would help Anakin…

He was willing to do anything to save him from this suffering.

The remaining agony that neither Qui-Gon nor Bant had felt bombarded his already-weakened mind. He stumbled and collapsed, clutching his head as his whole world exploded. He was being cleaved in half, ground into a million miniscule pieces, and blasted into oblivion.

A helpless moan escaped his shaking lips. Bant's arms were around his shoulders. Anakin had stopped screaming.

Then he saw them - brief flashes of images, like a stack of holopics shown in rapid succession.

White-armored soldiers. Jedi dying. The Temple in flames.

Friends. Acquaintances. Younglings. Masters.

Death. Blood. Fire.

Lightsabers. Blasters.

Obi-Wan.

The future. This was the future.

"NO!"

He fought against the barrage, the severe pain, and the suffering. There were too many images – it was too heavy, too painful. He grit his teeth together, though he was barely aware of doing so, and forced the pictures together, corralled them into a dark, empty corner of his mind. They burned crimson red in the Force, volatile and angry. As soon as he had them together, he forced his weakened self to erect shields around them – strong shields that would not falter against anything.

The room came back into view, like a transition from one scene in a holovid to the next.

Qui-Gon was on his back, Bant's arms firmly around his shoulders as if he had been convulsing. Anakin was barely visible over the edge of the bed, whimpering like a broken child. Sweat and blood plastered his face, and his eyes were dull…but not lifeless.

_Thank the Force._

"Are you all right? That was a foolish thing to do," Bant berated, but her eyes relayed relief and concern. In a quieter voice, so the exhausted, fearful Anakin couldn't hear, she added "What did you see?'

What had he seen? He shuddered at the images that would be implanted in his memory forever. He saw the Sith – in the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi – destroy everything and everyone Qui-Gon held dear. He saw his home desecrated, his friends tortured, and…

_Oh, Force…_

Unconsciously, his eyes met Anakin Skywalker's, and the boy, slowly and resolutely nodded.

_Kill or be killed._

-----

Sheets of rain poured forth from the grey skies – did it ever not rain on Kamino? In all the years he had lived there, Jango was quite sure he had never experienced a sunny day. Not that he minded. He had never been one for the sun, preferring dark streets to perform jobs for Huttese crime lords or warring factions.

This current job was anything but sunny.

He'd been at it for months now, on and off, traveling from his rainy home to the darkest planet in the galaxy at the beck and call of the (former) Chancellor. For a hefty sum of credits, of course. It was by far the best paying job he had ever held, but not the most accommodating. He hated leaving Boba – sometimes in the middle of the night – to answer the Chancellor's summons. Though technically his clone, Boba was his son through and through, and Jango adored the boy. Bounty hunter or not, Jango cared – perhaps more than anyone in the galaxy knew.

After being hired by a man called Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden to be the original model for a clone army, Jango had known he had wanted a copy as his son. He'd always entertained the idea of having a son. He wanted someone to pass all his tricks to, someone to train in the ways of bounty hunting, someone to bond with over blaster practice. However, being a bounty hunter left little time for romantic endeavors – sure, he might find some woman to bed in a random part of the galaxy, but no one he found was worthy of being his wife or lover, and he doubted very few would want to be. It was a hard life to lead: he was gone much of the time, and on top of that, he didn't even have a true home set up, choosing instead to wander the galaxy like Alwari nomads travel the plains of Ansion. It was a very singular career, with little time for a personal life.

But when he had been offered quarters at the cloning facility, Jango had been unable to refuse. Not only was it a free residence (included in his payment under the second clause of his contract), but it would also mean a stable home for a son, with plenty of people willing to look over him should Jango need to depart the watery planet for any length of time.

Thus, Boba Fett, the first genetic replication of Jango Fett (purely unaltered), had been created

The early years had been the hardest. Boba had been in no means a docile child, and Jango had often found himself up at odd hours, trying to coax the wailing babe back to sleep. However, the (slightly) frazzled bounty hunter had dampened those _joyous_ moments as soon as he had been able.

Contrary to popular belief, Jango had not abused his son, nor had he used any uncivilized torture methods to keep the energetic and sometimes disobedient child in line. Being a bounty hunter didn't mean he was a cruel man. He loved Boba and could not dream of harming him. That being said, it didn't mean that he hadn't taught his son a lesson when need be, as shown by the incident with the krayt draigon.

Thankfully, they hadn't had a repeat krayt draigon incident in quite a few years…

Because of his unique punishment style, Jango and Boba had become very close. Boba idolized his father and had done so since Jango had given him his first toy – a plastoid blaster with a mild laser bolt. It hadn't been, in hindsight, the _smartest_ gift to give to a tantruming two-year-old (he still had the scars to prove it), but ever since that time, all Boba had wanted to do was to become a bounty hunter.

Jango couldn't have felt prouder.

As he grew older, the lesson grew harder, from simple point-and-shoot techniques to theoretical discussions about who to trust. Boba drank in his every word, and his skill quickly grew.

Boba would be a marvelous bounty hunter indeed.

However, Jango adamantly refused to take his son on missions with him. Not only were they dangerous, but he was also a liability to his employer's interests, and Jango would not risk either the credits or his son's life. This was where he became just another worried parent, concerned for his son's safety and feeling the conflict between his job and his child. Both were important to him, but had he not been assured that Taun We would look after the young Fett while he was gone (and if something should happen to him), he would not continue to take jobs from slimy politicians and grudge-holding businesspeople.

It was amazing what some people would do for power. Take his latest employer for example:

Chancellor Palpatine had contacted him personally because he had needed skill no other bounty hunter possessed. Disappointed in his current apprentice, Darth Tyranus, he had set his sights upon a new subject – a stronger, more powerful presence that would assure his survival in the galaxy and the survival of all those who allied with him. Unfortunately, there was one small catch – he was a Jedi.

Jango had always enjoyed a challenge.

After haggling over price and receiving half of his payment in advance, he had left Boba to study up on his latest target – the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had never heard of this Obi-Wan Kenobi, but it had not been difficult to gather information on him, especially when he had been assigned to investigate the assassination attempts on Senator Padme Amidala, a side job Jango had been given by Tyranus. It had proved very useful, as he had soon realized that Kenobi had a local informant by the name of Dexter Jettster. Once he had discovered this, it had not taken much effort to get the Besalisk diner owner to tell Kenobi to come back before opening one day.

Dexter Jettster had played his part well, to be rewarded only with death that night, and when Kenobi had arrived the next morning, Jango had been waiting.

Drugged almost to the point of death, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been quickly and silently moved to a disturbing planet named Korriban as per Palpatine's orders. Jango had spent most of his days in the dark, moldy cell, torturing the Jedi mercilessly. Palpatine had wanted him broken, and broken he had become.

Kenobi had begged for death.

After that, Jango had happily returned to Kamino, knowing it would only be a matter of time before Palpatine contacted him about the clones. However, it had not been the Sith Lord who had commed him, but rather the broken Jedi, now fashioned Lord Dementor.

Dead, Dementor had relayed about Palpatine. Dead at the hands of the Jedi, but not before making his apprentice promise to continue with their galaxy-dominating plan. Jango was not so foolish as to believe such lies. It was obvious Dementor had murdered Palpatine, but he played along – what did he care as long as he received his payment?

And he would be paid, Dementor had assured him before Jango had relinquished the coordinates for the water-planet. Dementor was on his way now, and, if his chrono was correct, would be arriving at any moment.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Hmm, so Anakin has to fight and kill (or be killed by) Obi-Wan, who is on his way to Kamino to pick up his clonetroopers... Thoughts? Questions? Comments? I love to hear 'em, so don't be afraid to review! Stay tuned for chapter fourteen!


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Kamino

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Sorry about the longer-than-usual wait for this chapter...the past couple of weeks have been hectic, especially last weekend. I also apologize for it being slightly shorter than the last few chapters have been, but don't fret, they should get longer starting chapter sixteen. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter Fourteen: Kamino

-----

"Are you…all right, Ani?" Qui-Gon asked between the gulps of air he was using to calm his fluttering nerves, which flapped madly about his body like the delicate wings of a passing flutterby.

One look into his normally bright blue eyes revealed dark orbs, charred by the scorching flames of his vision. His heart wept. Anakin, a senior Padawan, was by no means innocent anymore, yet his curious sky-blue eyes, always so vibrant and full of life, secreted a sense of childlike innocence (which competed frequently with righteous anger). But to see them so dull, so…injured…was almost too much for the Jedi Master to bear.

_Blasted prophecy!_ Though Qui-Gon had first shown interest in the boy because of his unusual conception and strong Force-presence, he often wished that Anakin could simply be a normal Padawan Learner, one who wasn't haunted by his inevitable duty and the strange, harmful visions of the future.

"No," Qui-Gon corrected in a haunted whisper. Just a possible future.

Bant cleared her throat, laying a hand on both Qui-Gon's and Anakin's shoulders as she gently sent them a calming wave of the Force. The suggestion spread through his body like a warm cup of tea after a harrowing mission to a frigid, desolate ice planet. He nodded his thanks. "We should move you both to the Healers."

"Take Anakin," he agreed, struggling to his feet, ignoring the wooziness such an action produced. "I must go find Yoda."

"Qui-Gon!" Bant argued stubbornly, her mouth ajar to resist him further. He silenced her with a single, upraised finger.

"Yoda must be informed."

-----

"Sensed great pain in you and young Skywalker, I did," Yoda greeted as the door to his private quarters slid open with a hiss. "What has happened?"

Qui-Gon strode in as fast as his recovering mind would allow and began pacing the length of Yoda's common room. Had he not been trying to sort out all of his thoughts at the same moment, their chaotic buzz confusing and distracting him, he would've noticed that the glowlamps in the diminutive, green Jedi Master's private meditation chambers were set to full power and that a plastoid cup of water had been knocked on its side, the contents dripping on the well-worn, synthetic fibers of the carpet.

"Master, Anakin had a…a vision," the tall Jedi struggled to begin. Visions were usually frowned upon by the Jedi, as it was taught that the future was never pre-ordained. "But this one was different, Master. It was unlike anything I have ever seen before."

"You…?" Yoda began, but Qui-Gon cut him off.

"Anakin was in great pain," he explained rapidly, every word falling from his lips faster than the previous one. The explanation meant little in the large scheme of things. "So I tried to remove it through our bond. When I did, I received the images Anakin saw." An involuntary shudder swept through his body, an unwelcome attack on an already weak vessel. Although now tucked away in the recesses of his mind, the images would never stop haunting him.

The wizened Master's ear twitched. "A vision, you say?" he asked thoughtfully, more to himself than Qui-Gon. For a few moments, there was silence as Yoda leaned against his gimer stick, thinking. Then, he "hmmphed" and asked, "Show me what you saw, will you?"

Qui-Gon stopped pacing abruptly. How could he revisit it once more? How could he watch a possible future where both his sons were forced to fight one another to the death?

_Is it only_ possible? _It seemed so _fated.

No, there had to be another way. There was _always_ another way…

In either case, he did not want to relive the death and destruction ever again.

"Trust me, you must," Yoda's backward-speak broke through his fears. "Harm you, I will not. See these visions, only I will…"

Hesitantly and a bit stiffly, Qui-Gon lowered himself to his marrowbones. Even on his knees, his large body far surpassed Master Yoda in height. To substitute for the difference, Yoda grunted and climbed up on his stimcaf table with an ease no other eight-hundred-seventy-four-year-old possessed.

Now at eye-level with one another, Yoda reached out and placed his clawed hands on Qui-Gon's temple. With a last resistant hesitancy, he lowered his shields and allowed the Jedi to enter his mind.

-----

Through layers of clouds, thunder, electricity, and rain, Darth Dementor maneuvered his ship down to the watery surface of Kamino. Why Sidious had chosen such a despicable planet, he would never know. All he did know was that this little trip was costing him precious hours, and if this endeavor took up too much of his time, someone's head would be subsequently detached from that someone's shoulders.

Blast the cloners for needing to meet him in person! The army of clones had been made for the Republic, his (former, Dementor reflected with glee) Master had informed him from the beginning. Therefore, a representative from the Republic was required to retrieve them from the planet. In other words, a Jedi ambassador.

"Blast them to the Corellian hells!" he cursed as his anger took hold, empowering him into a rather steep dive and subsequent risky landing on the rain-covered landing pad despite his repugnance for flying.

A solitary figure, clad in drenched Mandalorian armor, greeted the once-Jedi-turned-Sith with a quick tilt of his head and a reluctant "Lord Dementor." Dementor hopped out of his ship and pulled his hood over his face as rain dripped from the sky in steady, heavy torrents, saturating even the water.

"This will be quick," he warned Jango Fett as he brushed past him, leading them both to the dry, sterile environment of the enclosed city.

The transparisteel doors opened. "Of course, my Lord." A tall figure glided gracefully over to greet them.

Having never before seen a Kaminoan, Dementor was impressed by their luminous skin and onyx eyes as deep and dark as the night sky, surrounding ethereal orbs of light reminiscent of the pinpricks of diamond-esque stars against a blanket of the finest black silk available in the galaxy. This Kaminoan in particular, who Jango introduced as Taun We, held herself with a dignity and grace, apparent in everything from her walk to the smooth words that trickled from her thin lips, that Dementor admired.

"Master Jedi, how wonderful it is to meet you." Her accent rounded her words nicely. "We were beginning to think you weren't coming. When Jango told us of your impending arrival, we made sure every part of your delivery was in order."

"Good," Dementor replied shortly, too short if he wished to successfully impersonate a Jedi. With an annoyed sigh, he added, "I'm glad to hear it."

"Our Prime Minister is very anxious to meet you." Dementor stifled another sigh as she led them to a chamber at the end of the corridor, just as white and brightly lit as the rest of the indoor city.

Upon greeting Prime Minister Lama Su, Dementor reluctantly and humiliatingly bowed low in the fashion of the Jedi he despised so much. After brief small talk – not brief enough in his opinion – the two Kaminoans and the bounty hunter led him through a series of transparent, illustrious hallways to view the massive army of genetically reproduced soldiers they had created.

It was very, _very_ impressive.

"There are two-hundred-thousands units ready, with a million more well on the way."

Gazing over the battalions of armor-clad clones, a sea of white figurines that seemed to stretch to infinity, rivaling the number of planets in the galaxy, he nodded and allowed a small, devious smile to grace his thin, pale lips as the faint song of victory reached his ears.

"Excellent."

-----

Yoda wearily placed a hand over his heart, disturbed by what he had just witnessed and experienced.

So much pain… So much _suffering_…

"A dark future, this is," he mumbled to himself, fighting to regain control of his haphazardly spinning mind. This vision explained everything he had felt earlier. No wonder Qui-Gon had looked so ragged when he had arrived.

"Master," Qui-Gon began hesitantly, "do you think this will really take place?"

The venerable Master "hmmphed" half-heartedly, but it sounded more like a weary, reflective sigh. _Know not I do_, he wished to say, but instead reprimanded, "Know you do, Master Qui-Gon, that always in motion the future is. Rely on such visions as these, we must not."

"But Master," the maverick argued, "these are not normal visions. You know this as well as I do."

"No," Yoda retorted sharply. "Know that, I do not. Lies in the Unifying Force, your strength does not. Enough experience with visions to interpret them, you have _not._ Know _this_, you do." He sighed and dropped his voice. "Blinding you, your attachments to your former Padawans are." To his credit, Qui-Gon did not deny this statement.

It was a dangerous and risky business to base one's actions around a vision, Yoda knew. Such precaution could even lead to the unwanted future unfolding as it had in the vision – a self-fulfilling prophecy.

There were too many variables and too little details to act, even on such a strange vision as the one Yoda had observed. "Be wary, we must," the green Jedi conceded, not so much because of the vision as because of the darkness he felt creeping among them, seeping into the Force like toxic gas from the ventilation system, slowly suffocating the light until there was nothing left but absolute and terrifying darkness.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Stay tuned for Chapter Fifteen: Past, Present, and Future - Obi-Wan heads for Coruscant, and the Galactic Republic teeters on the verge of destruction. Don't forget to review!

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Past, Present, Future

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Hello, my lovely readers! Once again, I am very sorry about the lateness of this chapter. My computer has been acting up lately, and I've been on the edge of going Sith and beating it to shreds with my plastic lightsaber. Fortunately, I came to my senses before that happened and decided to Force (all pun intended) it to allow me to upload this latest chapter.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Fifteen: Past, Present, and Future

-----

To every sentient being, rain was associated with an emotion or sense of nostalgia – perhaps leading to the uncovering of a childhood memory of splashing around in shallow puddles against a mother's wishes or of creating elaborate mud-based delicacies to share with friends and family after a particularly ferocious attack of thunder and lightning on a blisteringly warm, humid day. To every _normal_ sentient being, that is. To Darth Dementor, reigning Dark Lord of the Sith, rain had no meaning and created no emotion except mild annoyance. His childhood had not been filled with such trifled memories of enjoying something as simple as a passing storm. His childhood had been filled with Jedi lies. Among the Jedi, there was no such frivolity. A Jedi was attentive at all times. A Jedi did not "have fun." A Jedi did not know the meaning of the word.

_Their lack of emotions will be their downfall_, a voice on the wind whispered, eerily reminiscent of the late Darth Sidious. _They lack the very thing that makes them sentient…that makes them alive. Fools._

"-Pleased, my Lord?"

Surfacing from his subconscious, Dementor stared at the bounty hunter's bronzed face. How many times had he cursed Jango's smug face during his torture? How many times had he shuddered when t he menacing silhouette of pain had arrived in the doorway of his dank, rotten cell? How ironic that his torturer would now possess the means he needed to seek revenge on a galaxy that had left him gypped.

He had a whole army of Jango Fett's at his command.

Ironic didn't even begin to describe it.

"Was there something you wanted, Fett," he snapped, ignoring the previous question. He had little time for petty small talk and faux concern. Such inconsequential nonsense was best left to the politicians.

"The last of the clones have been loaded into the ships," he replied coldly. "You're all set to begin your journey to Coruscant."

Dementor nodded briskly in acknowledgement, his mind still lacking the focus he needed to do its job. Nothing stopped him now from seeking the revenge he had long desired…nothing except, perhaps, his own hesitancy. At a time of action, when he needed his will the most, he found himself paralyzed, unable to leap into the unknown – a future he had dreamt about for ages.

Was it the Unifying Force beckoning him again, warning him of yet another situation that would ultimately end poorly for him? Or had the menacing Darth Dementor, simply lost his nerve? Did he fear the Jedi fools with their emotionless exteriors and ridiculous dogma? If it were true, could he _admit_ to such a thing?

The air reverberated with the haunting cackles of hundreds of Sith Lords long dead.

_Blast_, he swore silently, though his outward appearance did not betray his caged anger.

Anger at the Jedi. Anger at the Force. Anger at himself.

It coursed through his veins like a raging speeder. Red waves crashed against the ocean of his mind, suffocating even the meekest sliver of green, blue, or white. The storm raged, the wind blew, and no one and nothing could stop it. To try would be suicide. It consumed everything in its path as it battered the walls of his mind, pulsing power that grew stronger with every blow. He throbbed with it; even his heart kept the same rhythm. Lord Dementor was not consumed by anger, he _was_ anger.

Snapping 180 degrees, he strode towards the landing platform with powerful, deadly strides. He permeated the air around him with suffocating darkness; his robes, as black as the vacuum of space itself, billowed behind him.

"You're coming with me." It was not a request.

Jango pushed his way forward to block the deadly Sith, hands itching to blast him into oblivion. The air surrounding the duo swirled in a chaotic mess of testosterone and rage. If it was possible, the very hallway seemed to wither and dim under Dementor's glacial glare, which would give anyone not named Jango Fett an agonizing heart attack. "That wasn't part of our deal, Dementor."

Had he not been so angry, Dementor would've laughed. He was not afraid of Jango Fett, and his petty threats would certainly not work on him. He should feel extremely lucky that the Sith Lord didn't Force-choke him that very instant. He so longed to…

"The deal has changed."

It was nothing more than a hiss, yet it _begged_ the bounty hunter to disagree with him, to give him any reason to hurt him. Even as they stared at one another, both challenging the other to make a move, to act on the palpable tension in the air and begin a full-scale war in the middle of the corridor, Dementor's fingers gently curled at his side, forming themselves stealthily around an imaginary tubular-shaped trachea.

However, Jango stepped aside, no longer giving Dementor a valid excuse to painfully murder the man. Perhaps once his ultimate goal had been achieved, he would repay Jango with the same kindness the bounty hunter had bestowed upon him during his captivity.

"I knew we understood one another," Dementor growled as he sidestepped Jango without a glance, a voracious sneer on his vicious face.

-----

Unlike most, Bant Eerin found the Temple's Med Center to be a place of solitude. Everything from the sterile white sheets to the steadily beeping monitors spoke of the healing power of the Force. Here, she lived a quiet life of service, patching up saber burns and blaster wounds, diseases and illnesses. The Force guided her skilled hands, speaking to her as it only spoke to other Jedi trained in the healing arts.

Over the course of her life, she had seen many wounded Jedi before and had assisted them as they had regained their strength and mobility. But not always. Sometimes she was forced to watch them slip into the Force, slowly succumbing to their injuries, the familiar presences draining from the room, leaving only the chilling echoes of deceased Jedi.

As a Healer and a Jedi, she was prepared for such events. But nothing and no one could've prepared Bant for this.

Anakin Skywalker lay before her, his unconscious supine figure deathly pale. Though cool to the touch, his normal fierce, resolute face shimmered with cold sweat. The only sign of life was the gentle exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide from between his two chapped, parted lips.

This was her Padawan, weak and hurting. Never had she felt so helpless.

"He's doing well, Bant," the Bothan Mind Healer on call reassured her as he entered a quick note into a datapad. She could only numbly nod in response.

She had been so sure back in their quarters that he…

A loud, shaky sigh pushed away the thought. She tried desperately to reestablish her center, to release her fear and become the levelheaded Jedi she had been back in her quarters while both Anakin and Qui-Gon had writhed in agony.

Her efforts were in vain. Her calm center eluded her.

A shaking, hesitant hand reached up to wipe the sweat off her protégé's brow. "Oh, Anakin," she whispered desperately. He was so weak, so fragile – so different from her normally energetic, confident young Padawan Learner.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to protect you."

The words had been spoken without so much as a thought, but in her heart, she knew them to be true. Anakin was lying in the Healer's Ward because she had failed as a Master – failed to allay the unseen evil before it touched her vibrant apprentice, before it drained the life from his very soul with image upon image of painful horrors.

She should've ran to his side sooner…had enough sense to shield him from his own vision as Qui-Gon had...done a better –

_Important, the 'what-ifs' and 'should-haves' are not_, Master Yoda's voice gently reprimanded, though the Jedi Master was nowhere to be seen.

"Change the past you cannot," she mumbled to herself, imitating Yoda's backward-speak as she had often done as an Initiate. "Only the present you can now determine. And in doing so, the future."

She sighed. Yoda was right; her focus had to remain in the present, for by straying to the past, she could accidentally create disaster in the future.

----

Bant and Anakin were only two of the souls whose lives would soon be drastically changed forever by dark deeds that had already occurred and catastrophic choices that had yet to be made.

None, not even Yoda, could see the downward spiral the galaxy was quickly descending into, a chaotic mess of events that could only be stopped by four people, connected together by threads of friendship and betrayal:

Three Jedi and a Sith.

The fate of many rested in the hands of the warring. If they did not succeed and balance was not restored, all would be plunged into everlasting darkness.

The Force, it seemed, was not without a sense of irony.

In dejarik terminology, they were forked.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Say goodbye to the galaxy you know and love, for all Hell breaks loose starting with Chapter Sixteen: Attack of the Clones. Everything's been building to this point, and I am so glad to finally write what I've been planning for years, including the inevitable duel between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Cue nervous gasps.

On a side note, the second-to-last line in this chapter is a modified line from the Matrix which says "Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony."

'Twould be very appreciated if you hit that little button in the corner that says 'review.'

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Attack of the Clones

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued. I do, however, own Ado Staet and Initiate Alin.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Sorry I didn't get this up sooner (I wasn't feeling well), but I hope its content makes up for its delay.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Sixteen: Attack of the Clones

-----

Darkness shrouded the center of the Galactic Republic, a heavy blanket weighing down upon the defenseless citizens, most still sound asleep in the comforts of their safe, quiet homes. Scores of glowlamps silently fought against its overbearing reign, their soft white lights in vain denial of the truth. If they could only hold against the night's seductive allure – if they could shed just a little more light – then night wouldn't come…darkness wouldn't come. These hours would still belong to the day.

Night was a frightening time. It was ruled by the creatures of the darkness, mysterious and sinister foes. Nameless, these devils stalked the underbelly, hiding among the shadows that had bore them, feeding upon the delicious current of fear. They preyed upon the unfortunate innocent and took company among the many crooks and thieves – their dark allies in their dark kingdom.

Kingdoms, however, are seldom won without a battle, and those living in them are rarely happy. Revolution and reform, many would cry. Justice and equality! But the darkness was clever and would not be mutinied against. Punishment was wrought swiftly and harshly to those who would protest its rule. Lessons would be learned, or there would be consequences.

No one dared linger amidst the darkness too long, not even its so-called "allies."

The darkness knew not what loyalty meant. Trust was not a programmed word. It scoffed at those who held a measure of respect for such obscenities and took great enjoyment in orchestrating betrayal among its numbers.

No betrayal was greater than that of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The darkness took special pride in the creation of Darth Dementor. No other deception had ever ensued so _perfectly_. Even after the Jedi had discovered before their time the identity of their new foe, they still did not take any precautions against the inevitable war between darkness and light.

Yes, _inevitable_. Once more there would be an epic battle between the opposing factions of the Force, polar opposites destined to be enemies until one grew strong enough to destroy the other.

Balance, the Jedi's precious prophecy proclaimed. A symbiotic relationship between suffocating darkness and weakening light. Had the darkness been a sentient being, it would've laughed. It, unlike its counterpart, was not so foolish as to believe in a neutral balance. So long as there was power to be had, it would crave it, and there was little the light could do to stop it. Already the darkness manipulated the light to see only what the darkness wanted it to see. Sidious, for example. He had hidden directly under the nose of the Jedi. Had they been stronger, had they seen, they would've taken one of their _trillions_ of wasted opportunities and destroyed the Sith while they had had the chance.

They were blind, and the darkness reveled in their fault.

But the darkness had a fault too.

It was arrogance.

-----

By the time Dementor landed on Coruscant, the system's mighty sun's rays had pierced the greyness of dawn, chasing away the last of the lurking shadows of the night.

_Home._

Struck by the sudden familiarity of a world he had not seen in months, his bleeding yellow eyes surveyed the metropolitan skyline.

He was home.

Jedi or Sith, home had always been on Coruscant. Everything from the glinting skyscrapers that captured the first droplets of sunlight to the chaotic barrage of traffic in the many criss-crossing skylanes welcomed Dementor into its warm embrace.

Though enamored with the Dark Side, Korriban had not been home to Darth Dementor. Korriban had been a wasteland, a prison, and a training ground. It offered no comforts, but hosted months of nightmarish memories and heart-splintering discoveries. Not like the Galactic City. Not like home.

It was a pity that Coruscant was also home to the people he was about to murder.

"Sir." A Clone Commander marched over, pulling Dementor out of his reverie. Though bred from the same host, many clones had been given special training that allowed them to develop leadership as well as individual traits, therefore destroying the theory that all clones were completely identical.

Dementor knew not the number of the clone that approached him, nor did he care. It was not his mission to develop camaraderie with the troops. They were his servants, his weapon – the Republic's own safeguard turned against it.

How ironic that an army bred to protect the soon-to-be-deceased Republic had actually been created by its greatest traitor for the very purpose _destroying_ the weakening system of government. Clones, completely compliant with any order given by a ranking officer of the Republic (including its peacekeepers), had been engineered with a dormant failsafe. Known as "Order 66," it was intended to give the clones a directive to destroy members of the Republic should they become its own worst enemy.

A brilliantly simple betrayal in theory. Now it was time for the true test.

"Commander Fett has unloaded the last of his legions to the South and has begun approaching the Jedi Temple."

A sharp nod followed a wickedly evil grin. Right on schedule… "Gather the rest of the troops and begin the attack."

"Yes, sir!" the clonetrooper snapped to attention. "Right away, sir!"

Feral yellow eyes followed the trooper as he scurried away, then slowly drifted toward the horizon as the commander became lost in the sea of white pawns, until the predatory orbs fell on a large, dome-shaped building shimmering in the faint orange glow of dawn.

The Senate Rotunda.

-----

Jedi were not perfect. Though considered by many in the galaxy to be some sort of deity, they frequently made mistakes, just like any other sentients. The difference between the Jedi and the other "normal" beings was not, despite many arguments, their connection to the mystical Force, but rather that Jedi, instead of trying in vain to correct past mistakes, strove to ensure that said mistakes, however volatile, benefited the present as much as possible.

Yoda had made a grievous error.

Blinded by his own hesitancy, he had failed to see Skywalker's vision for what it had truly been: a direct warning. He had allowed his past experiences with visions to dictate his present decisions.

Now it might be too late.

If the Jedi Order was to survive, they would have to move quickly.

-----

Pristine armor scuffled over well-tended carpet. Identical voices whispered directions to one another over secure comm lines. Weapons aimed, lines formed, and panicked screams died on the lips of the unfortunate few who happened to get in the way.

At the head of this madness, shrouded in darkness and unfathomable hatred, strode the Republic's newest and deadliest foe.

Darth Dementor.

-----

"Hurry, Younglings!" Jedi Knight Olana Chion ushered in a hastened whisper. Under orders from Master Yoda, care of Mace Windu, she had gathered all the younglings and Initiates in the Temple in groups to send them away from Coruscant as quickly as possible.

Though she knew not the nature of the quickly approaching danger, she felt the ripple in the Force, a disturbance greater than any she had felt before. By violent and destructive ways, the future of the Jedi would be decided today.

No longer did they wait for the Chosen One to fulfill his destiny in due time; the war for balance was being brought to them, wrought in bloodshed.

"Do you think it's Knight Kenobi?" she heard an Initiate named Alin whisper fearfully to a Padawan as she shepherded the last of that particular group into the transport, piloted by Creche Master Ado Staet, waiting to fly them to the safety awaiting them on the pacific planet of Alderaan.

The Padawan, a young boy by the name of Zett Jukassa, who had been kept at the Temple by the will of the Council while his Master embarked on an extremely deadly undercover mission, shook his head. Olana strained to hear the his answer. "I don't know," he finally replied, "but whomever it is, the Force will be with us."

Wrenching her attention away from the pair, she nodded curtly to Master Staet in the cockpit, then descended the ramp, all too aware of the many fearful eyes watching her every movement. "May the Force be with you, young ones."

The ramp retracted, cutting off the Initiates replies, just as a variety of war cries echoed throughout her once-peaceful home.

Destiny had arrived.

Praying silently to the Force, she braced herself for the worst and ran back inside to ensure the survival of those younglings who had yet to secure safety on a transport.

-----

"Kenobi is on Coruscant," the blue holographic form of Jedi Master Ki-Adi-Mundi shouted hurriedly over the sounds of destruction echoing throughout the Jedi Temple, lightsaber ablaze in one hand as his eyes actively searched for threats.

"Here?" Padme Amidala breathed in shock. "How?"

"He has – " the transmission skipped, " – army – " It skipped again. " – destructive power. Do not engage. Evacuate the Se – " Two blaster bolts shot into view, barely deflected by Mundi's lightsaber. The transmission cut out, leaving Chancellor Padme Naberrie Amidala staring at the empty space above the holoprojector as her head spun and ear-splitting screams, shrieking in desperation, filled the usually somber corridors of the Galactic Senate.

There was no time to digest. No time to try to make sense of everything that was unfolding before her deep brown eyes. The Republic was under attack by a Sith Lord with an army bigger than that of the Separatists when they had attacked some months ago. The Republic was under attack by a former Jedi – a friend – whom she had presumed dead for many months. The Republic was under attack – not just the Senate, but the Jedi too. Without the stability of the lawmakers and the peacekeepers, chaos would grip everything she held dear.

The Republic was under attack.

Only time for action.

"We must evacuate the Senate quickly," she briskly spoke to her old friend and head of security, Captain Typho, who had retired from his position on the Naboo security force to remain in her service after she had been promoted.

Typho spoke quickly into his comlink as Padme rose from her desk chair and grabbed a hidden blaster pistol. Finishing his orders, Typho looked at her in shock. "Milady, what are you doing?"

"I will not allow Obi-Wan to destroy what I have worked so hard to preserve," she spoke with conviction, shedding some of the bulky outer layers of her clothing. She would need all the mobility possible. "The Republic is my home, and I will not allow it to disappear silently."

"You heard Master Mundi, Chancellor. Kenobi is dangerous! If you fight him, you'll lose."

Holding her head high, Padme regarded Typho with the same hardened resolution she had possessed during the Battle of Naboo so many years ago. "I don't plan on losing, Captain."

"Milady – "

Their argument was interrupted as Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan raced into the Chancellor's office below the great dome that played host to every voice of the Republic, his face red and his breathing labored. "Padme, they're heading this way. You must leave quickly."

The Chancellor shook her head. She would not hand the Republic over to Obi-Wan Kenobi. She would protect it with every breath in her body.

"Listen to reason – "

Screams and blaster bolts filled the corridor behind Organa, the deadly lasers ricocheting off the interior durasteel like a frantic mating dance. The three raced out into the hectic corridor, dodging bodies and blasters as the raced to a more secure location, Padme and Captain Typho sparing seconds to glance backwards and shoot at the oncoming terror.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in the center of the hallway, laughing maniacally at the chaos surrounding him.

Chills ran up Padme's spine.

"After her!"

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Ooh, a cliffhanger! Sadly, my friends, this is only the beginning... It will, I say with the deepest regret, only get worse for our poor, poor characters. Stay tuned for the next chapter, Chapter Sixteen: Sith versus Senators. Feel free to send me reviews, even if they're only begging for your favorite character to not get killed.

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Sith Versus Senators

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued. I do, however, own Qauter Sollliel V. Contact me if you would like to vacation there.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Here's a quick update before school starts again. Happy Easter to all! May the Easter bunny bring you mountains of chocolate and hard-boiled eggs (decorated in a SW theme, of course).

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Seventeen: Sith Versus Senators

-----

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in the center of the hallway, laughing maniacally at the chaos surrounding him.

"After her!"

Footsteps and laser bolts pursued the escaping trio, some of the blaster fire whizzing past a little too close to comfort Senator Bail Organa as he led them toward the senatorial hangers. He had to get Padme out of harm's way. Only she could hold the dying Republic together.

A very uncharacteristic vulgarity slipped from Bail's lips as they rounded a corner, a blaster bolt singeing his neck.

"They're gaining on us!" Typho yelled breathlessly, maneuvering another corner in the dizzying labyrinth that was the Senate.

"I've sent Captain Antilles ahead – " Duck. " – If we can only reach – " He palmed open a door. " – The _Tantive IV_, then we – " Senatorial aide Tyro Caladian fell before his eyes. " – Can make it to Alderaan."

Padme fired at the clones, nearly tripping over debris and dead bodies in the process. "I'm not leaving, Senator."

"I don't think this is the best time to be arguing, Pad – Oof!"

Esteemed head of Alderaan and clumsy, newly-promoted senator fell to the floor in a heap of chaos, the latter screaming and flailing his limbs in every direction, making it impossible for the former to wrench himself free of the panicked senator.

"MESA GONNA DIE! HE'P ME! HE'P ME!"

"Jar Jar!" Padme struggled to pull the frantic Gungan off Bail, a breathless heap pinned to the floor.

The clones gained on them. Blaster fire danced around the corridor. Jar Jar Binks screamed and latched onto Bail Organa for dear life.

"Get him off me!"

"Jar Jar, _let go!_"

"Hurry!"

"We have to move!"

"DEY COMIN'!"

"Pull him!"

"WESA DYIN' DO-TAY!"

"Milady – _RUN!_"

It was too late.

"_No!_"

Padme Amidala fell to the floor.

-----

Once upon a time, the Temple had been a beautiful refuge of serenity…

_Once upon a time._

Adi Gallia fought back-to-back with her cousin, Stass Allie, on the defense as clone upon clone flooded their home. Now a wasteland a dead bodies, the Jedi Temple was no more an icon of peace than the shady palace of notorious gangster Jabba the Hutt.

Grunts accompanied swings. Kicks followed parries. Clone after clone was felled by the powerful blades of the two Corellian Jedi, fighting not for their own lives, but for the very life of the Jedi Order.

-----

"There's one!"

"Get her!"

The telltale _ping!_ of blaster fire followed young Darra Thel-Tanis down the hectic corridor. She didn't dare stop. To stop meant suicide, and Darra would not give up so easily.

The day had started so normally. She and her Master, Soara Antana, had risen early from their slumbers to watch Coruscant's star rise over the point alloy tops of the city-planet's majestic skyscrapers. A quick morning meal of muja fruit and tea had followed their recently acquired early morning tradition (formed while on a diplomatic mission to Qauter Sollliel V, a Mid Rim desert planet that boasted four suns, two sunrises, two sunsets, and a temperature that dropped no lower than 35 degrees Celsius), and after filling their stomachs, they had settled in the common room to begin morning meditation.

Then it had happened.

"Behind you!"

An agonized moan and the odor of burnt flesh.

"Kill the traitors!"

"Don't let 'em get away!"

"One hundred percent!"

Her lightsaber flew in a blur around the kind, sweet girl, now a fierce warrior with a lifetime of knowledge in the art of saber combat. She swung as the Force deemed, muscle memory driving her limbs to execute perfect tucks and feints, drilled into her as second nature by a Master of the lightsaber – her own Master, Soara Antana.

But even Jedi, no matter how skilled, were only sentient.

Sweat dribbled down her tense face.

-----

Horror gripped the small party, every member paralyzed by fear. Even Jar Jar loosened his grip on Senator Organa to stare at the wilted body of their beloved friend. None cared that every second brought the clones closer and closer. They saw not the blaster bolts that whizzed past, nor heard the screams of fallen comrades. Padme was –

"Alive," Captain Typho whispered, his eyes rapidly switching from her faintly rising and falling chest to the charred wound on her torso. "She's alive. But barely."

_Thank the stars…_

"We have to get to the hanger," Bail repeated quickly, unceremoniously dumping the Gungan klutz on the ground next to him and heaving the wounded chancellor into his arms. Stuck in limbo between life and death, it would take far less effort for the former Queen of Naboo to die than to regain health. He was going to see that didn't happen. "We can take her to the Medi-corp on Alderaan."

They were moving again, though more slowly than before. Captain Typho produced cover fire for the Prince Consort and his precious cargo, while Jar Jar kept running into people and things in his effort to flee to safety.

"Hurry up, Jar Jar," Bail urged, finding the halls difficult to maneuver in the chaos. An Ithorian representative rushed past, dropping datapads on the floor. Bail slipped –

– And caught himself. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of the blast doors of the hanger.

"Ahead!"

It was a mad dash to the hanger, their most primitive survival instincts kicking into gear.

One hundred meters…

Seventy meters…

Fifty…

Thirty…

Fifteen…

Ten…

Five…

The door shut behind them.

The _Tantive IV_ sat in its docking bay, the engines fired up and ready to go. Captain Antilles waited for them on the landing ramp. They had made it. Already, Bail could smell the fresh aroma that accompanied his homeworld. He could see beautiful Breha awaiting his arrival on their grand balcony. He could feel her loving embrace. Had word of the attack already reached Alderaan? Was Breha pacing their extravagant common room worriedly, waiting for any sort of word from Coruscant assuring his safety?

"Where's Senator Binks?"

Bail snapped his head. "What?" A visual search of the landing pad revealed a few other political members also racing for the safety of their homeworlds, but held no sign of the gangly Gungan.

Jar Jar Binks had been killed.

-----

Kick. Thrust. Block. A moan.

Three down. Ninety-thousand to go.

It wasn't, perhaps, the best time to be realizing this, but as his muscles strained, fighting not only the massive army that had found ground in the Temple of the Jedi Order but also his oncoming fatigue, Qui-Gon could only conclude that he was getting too old for this. He had come to the same conclusion once before, over ten years in the past, as he had fought for his survival against the Zabrak Sith apprentice. He had dominated over the Sith only with the help of the Force and Obi-Wan's incredible timing.

Would one out of two be enough this time?

It wasn't that these armor-clad soldiers were as skilled as the Sith-trained warrior (Qui-Gon would take blasters over a double-bladed lightsaber any day), but the sheer numbers in which these beings attacked, the strategies they used to overcome foes…it was astounding. They were much more than a mob of discontent farmers wielding faulty blaster rifles.

Slash. Duck. Sweep.

Qui-Gon called on the Force to fill him with strength.

_Soldier versus Jedi. Blaster versus lightsaber. White versus brown._

He shoved the memories of the vision aside. _Focus on the moment._ He couldn't afford to lose his concentration.

But the vision had come true so far. He had warned Yoda, but the old troll had done nothing. They had played right into the hands of the Sith, right into the frigid death grip of Obi-Wan.

Another clone fell.

He wouldn't let the vision come true.

He _couldn't._

-----

"Go to your posts. Wait for my signal."

Having grown bored chasing after a tired, old Prince and a little girl playing dress up, Lord Dementor had left the pursuit, capture, and deaths of those fools up to one of his Clone Commanders while he moved on to the next stage of his plan. The clones wouldn't fail. If they did, he would make sure they felt the sting of the consequences.

His fingers twitched hungrily.

Disinterestedly, his dangerous orbs swept over the ebonite Supreme Chancellor's Suite below the Great Rotunda. Stark, it had little personality, intended for the comfort of every Supreme Chancellor, no matter what planet he/she claimed as home. During Palpatine's reign, he had always had live feed of Galactic City streaming into a floor-to-ceiling holoscreen as a sort of faux-window. Amidala, however, only had one small holopic of whom he assumed were members of her family.

Maybe he'd pay them a visit after he was done with Coruscant…

He slipped the holopic into his pocket.

His comlink crackled. "We're in position, Sir. All those still alive have been captured as you ordered."

"Excellent." Everything was working out perfectly.

The Sith Lord briskly walked over to the Chancellor's Rotunda podium, embedded in the ebonite floor, and pressed the controls. Slowly, the mechanical platform began to rise. The ceiling above opened into the Senate dome, and Dementor was greeted by the sight of tens of thousands of corrupt beings in the galaxy, all being held hostage in their repulsorpods by Dementor's grand army of clones.

He would've stood there all day if it meant he could soak up every molecule of their fear. They shivered and quaked in his presence. He could hear their pathetic whimpers, see their eyes jump from clones to him and back again. It was a delicious empowerment.

"Esteemed senators…" His voice, dripping with sarcasm, echoed across the giant dome. If it was possible, they seemed to quiver even more. "Delegates of this galactic travesty, I'm positive that, by now, you've all been made aware of my arrival. Of course, I'm also sure that some of you were too caught up in your money counting to take notice of your dying colleagues, you hypocritical drips of Hutt slime. Do any of you care? Are your tears for fallen friends or fear for your own lives? Do you actually care about anything and anyone but yourselves? You devote your whole lives to the galaxy – why? For the chance to right some wrongs, to help people? Or to scam the rich to fill your own pockets, to take advantage of those you serve by exploiting them for your own gain?"

He paused. Not a single sound filled the giant hall.

"I thought so." A savage grin.

"Rest assured, my corrupt hostages, that such dishonesty shall never again fill this building. No senator shall ever use whatever means necessary to gain a few credits. How is that possible, you ask? Well, because there will be no senators."

"Who are you?" a frightened voice squeaked from near the top of the Rotunda.

He smirked. "My name is Lord Dementor. Welcome to my dictatorship." A beat. He nodded to the clones. "Fire."

The Galactic Republic was no more.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Ah, the beginning of the end...of _this_ story, anyway. I've actually written quite a bit ahead (so that I can work on the detailed plot for JT IV in between updates for Revenge). Right now, I'm looking at approximately 21 total chapters, which means there are about four more updates left. Unless, of course, I decide to splice a chapter in two or add some chapters together, but 21 is the rough count, and by the end, I'm sure you'll want to kill me. Just remember that if you kill me, you won't get JT IV.

Don't forget to review, and stick around for Chapter Eighteen: The Chosen One. Anyone wish to venture a guess as to the content? Besides the obvious, of course.

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	18. Chapter Eighteen: The Chosen One

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: I know what you're thinking…

_"You missed the report on the Outer Rim sieges."_

_"I'm sorry; I was held up. I have no excuse_._"_

I'm very sorry for the long delay, and the only thing I can say in my defense is that I was overtaken by multitudes of pre- and post-prom activities. Hopefully, this long chapter will make up for it.

On another note, _**bold italic **_sentences indicate training bond communication.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter Eighteen: The Chosen One

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Form VII was a powerful and dangerous tool, intended to strengthen the warrior by making him or her embrace the darkness within him- or herself. Only two were able to wield its destructive power. It was ironic that both were Jedi.

Vaapad was a recently acquired lightsaber combat form for the Jedi Order. Created by Jedi Master Mace Windu, it played to his strengths and tested his will. Only the strongest and most powerful Jedi could wield a lightsaber under Form VII. It should be no surprise that the other Master of Vaapad was Mace's own former Padawan Learner, Depa Billaba.

Alone, they were devastating warriors, able to dismiss an enemy in half the time it took Masters of Soresu to achieve. Together, on the other hand, they were an almighty force to be reckoned with, blades moving so fast that they couldn't even be seen at times. No one survived against the Windu-Billaba team. No one.

That standard held true as they disposed of clone after clone, the combat more like a mildly strenuous exercise than a fight for survival. The clones, trying extremely hard to remain a safe distance away, even seemed reluctant to fire at the Jedi team, for all the bolts that shot from their blaster pistols were discharged right back to their senders. It seemed like sheer madness to attack the deadly Masters.

Mace wouldn't complain. It made his job easier.

Another soldier collapsed in half, having managed to connect his stomach to the pulsing electrum blade of Mace's lightsaber. He smirked.

The problem that most Jedi found in Vaapad was in its function. Of course, being a lightsaber form, its function was to kill/maim/protect/etc., but that was only its manifest function. Its latent function, on the other hand, was far more disturbing and far less accepted by the Jedi: the wielder of Vaapad had to _want_ to kill. In order to fight, Mace had to desire to harm the soldiers. This bloodthirst, as many called it, grievously contradicted the Jedi Code, which preached peace and serenity instead of emotion and passion. As a Jedi, Master Windu was supposed to fight only in detachment and kill only in the direst of situations. As a warrior, Mace Windu teetered on the edge of the Dark Side.

But he always pulled himself back. That was what made him a superb candidate for Vaapad. Not only did he have the strength to embrace the darkness and fight with it, he could also let it go. When others would fall prey to the allure of the Dark Side's power and have greed overtake them, Mace Windu could resist the seductive power.

Depa, graceful in every movement, Force-pushed two of the armored soldiers back, causing them to collide with several other members of their squadron. He spared the Chalactan Council member a glance. Although Depa was now a Jedi Master and a wise member of the High Council, the camaraderie between the two felt the same as it had during Depa's apprenticeship, when she and Mace had traveled across the galaxy promoting its welfare.

He made to comment on this nostalgic moment when thousands voices in the Force cried out in terror and were ripped away suddenly, leaving a giant vacuum of nothingness in their place. The effect made Mace stumble and momentarily lose his focus. The clones, much more intelligent than the disassembled Separatist's army of droids, quickly took advantage of the situation and began a barrage of laser bolts that he and Depa (who had also felt the pain of ten thousand lives disappearing) struggled to deflect.

Something terrible had happened, something that had the ability to change the fate of the Republic forever. But what?

-----

Jango had always enjoyed a challenge. He despised taking jobs that were too easy and only did so when he was in need of credits. His favorite jobs, it should be no surprise, were Jedi.

Trained nearly from birth to fight the many "evils" of the galaxy, Jedi were highly skilled warriors who could get out of more tight situations than Jango could name. Many Jedi had slipped through his fingers over the years.

Then there had been Kenobi.

Just prior to being hired by Palpatine to capture the Jedi Knight, Jango had learned the secret to making Jedi surrender. Jedi weren't stupid beasts; they could calculate the odds of survival in the blink of an eye. Therefore, in order to get them to surrender, one had to put them in a situation where the odds were impossibly stacked against them. Depending on the situation, one could make a Jedi do anything from giving up his or her lightsaber to throwing him- or herself into death's face. One would find that most Jedi would give up their lives if they felt that the lives of their companions were more important than their own.

Of course, Jedi could also be stubborn creatures. If they felt they had even half-a-percent chance for both their companions and themselves to survive, they would fight for their lives until either death proved them wrong or they conquered their foes.

It seemed that the Jedi were going to be stubbornly foolish this time.

_Ping! Ping! Ping!_

Three Jedi children (Padawans, were they called?) fell under the wrath of his precision pistol.

"Serves them right," Jango muttered to himself, "for straggling behind their group." No doubt, their group, led by a female Jedi, was headed to safety, either to be locked away in one of the many rooms of the Temple or to be stuck on a ship headed towards some distant planet. It didn't matter. No matter how many children they saved, without older Jedi to teach them, they might as well be saving Bantha droppings.

Better to be safe than sorry though…

Jango beckoned the nearest clone. "Follow those kids."

The clone saluted ("Yes, sir!") and scuttled off to ensure the demise of the future of the Jedi, while Jango stalked around the Archives, looking for his next unknowing victim. He stepped carelessly over the body of the Archivist, an older woman who had put up a good fight – much better than what he had been expecting.

He had to give respect to the Jedi for their skills. They were worthy opponents.

Swift movement from a dark shape blurred the edge of his vision. Jango became very still, having found his prey. He crept as it (or rather, he or she) carefully maneuvered the aisles of the Jedi Archives, moving in a pattern that only _seemed_ random.

The Jedi ducked down another aisle, skipped the next two, then hastened to the other side of the room with Force-enhanced speed. Jango trailed the elusive Jedi, catching glimpses of his next victim as he or she continued to move throughout the extensive room in this manner. All he had to do was watch long enough, then he could predict his or her next move.

Then he would have the opportunity to strike.

A flash of robes. A brief glimpse of olive skin.

Pass the third aisle…down the next…over…across…up…skip…skip –

Now.

Jango threw a vibroax at the Jedi, a young Mirialan female, letting it soar through the air in its own chaotic wobble towards the girl. The apprentice, taken by surprise, spun in a dizzying circle, lightsaber blazing to life with a _snap-hiss_, deflecting the vibroax at the last second.

Distracted, the Jedi didn't sense the Merr Sonn 1126 rocket until it was too late. The blast caught her in mid-jump, slamming her against a shelf with the sickening crack of all her vertebrae shattering. Limp as a piece of flimsi, she crumpled to the floor and was soon lost under the mountain of debris and fire the rocket had created.

A job well done.

-----

_Is that all you've got?_

In a dizzying array of acrobatics, Shaak Ti landed in front of a very surprised clone and sliced the enemy in half, following that astounding move with another equally mind-boggling combination of two double flips and a lightsaber throw, effectively jamming her lightsaber through the heart of another trooper from twenty meters away.

The Togruta Jedi's head tails twitched lightly in comfortable rhythm with her deadly aerodynamics.

Shaak Ti was ready to take on the whole army by herself.

-----

Garen had been just a young boy when he had first traveled to the caves of Ilum to create his own lightsaber. It was the first test of his career as a Jedi, for the caves were not ordinary caves. They were strong in the Force, and only those with trust in their training and themselves could navigate their winding passages and Force-induced hallucinations. His own had almost caused him to fail.

In it, he had seen himself – much older and more ragged – wounded and slowly dying from his injuries and lack of nutrition. Hopelessness and heartache had festered around him, a slowly simmering stew of regret and betrayal. The image of himself had frightened him and, moreover, had made him feel inadequate to be a Jedi. He had struggled to overcome the delusion, fought against his desire to return to his Master's side in shame, a weaponless Padawan unfit to even best a hallucination.

However, in the end, he had overcome it, and he had walked out of the caves with his head held high, clutching his lightsaber proudly.

If asked, Jedi Knight Muln couldn't explain why such memories returned now, as he cut down his enemies. He didn't even have the same lightsaber anymore. _But_, perhaps, on second thought, there was a reason the memories returned – one reason.

Though he had never admitted it to anyone, even his Master, Garen had always wondered _why?_ Why had he been hiding in the caves of Ilum? Why hadn't he returned to the Jedi Temple to receive treatment from its skilled Healers? Why hadn't he commed for help?

Though his adolescent brain hadn't been able to comprehend it at the time, with age he had begun to suspect that _if_ the vision had been true (the illusions were usually just that – illusions), it had been the product of something far more sinister than a simple mission gone awry. Something that affected not only him, but _all_ Jedi in the galaxy:

The extinction of the Jedi.

Somehow, that possibility seemed quite a bit more likely now than it had a month before.

-----

"Sithspit, they're everywhere!"

Under normal circumstances, Jedi Master Ry-Gaul would've chastised his young protégé for such language, but obviously the situation was hardly normal.

_**Master, I can't – there are too many!**_

After cleanly slicing a head off, causing it to soar through the air as its owner crumpled to the floor, Ry-Gaul sent a supportive wave through their training bond.

_**Focus, my Padawan. Don't panic.**_

_And whatever you do, _Ry-Gaul silently prayed, _don't do anything rash._

Though a seemingly quite man, Ry-Gaul was a fierce warrior and a cunning diplomat and had been known to assist in many "aggressive negotiations." He infinitely preferred non-aggressive negotiations best.

"Time to say goodbye, Jed – " The sentence ended with a shriek of agony as another trooper fell victim to his silver-bladed lightsaber, a rare color among Jedi.

"Goodbye."

While he was well known for his silence, he was perhaps best known throughout the Temple for his patience. He rarely became flustered when required to use his lightsaber to bring about an end to situations, and it was gossiped among the ranks of the Jedi that his patience rivaled Master Qui-Gon Jinn's stubbornness.

His Padawan, however, was a very different story.

It did not surprise Ry-Gaul that Tru had become friends with Anakin Skywalker. Both were very social, rambunctious Senior Padawans with a love for action and the aforementioned aggressive negotiations. While it seemed that Tru had not learned much patience from his Master, he was hardly arrogant of his skills. Tru knew his limits, and he knew when to ask for help.

And that was why Ry-Gaul was worried.

Over the nearly eight years of their Master-Padawan relationship, neither had ever battled an enemy with numbers of such magnitude. Not even as an apprentice himself had Ry-Gaul encountered such a reckoning force. If _he_ was having trouble keeping up with the barrage of blaster fire, vibroshivs, and other such gadgets, he could only imagine how Tru was coping…

He sent a burst of strength to his young learner.

Instead of it being returned with a wave of gratitude, there was a burst of pain from Tru's end of the bond.

His Padawan collapsed to the floor, moaning and clutching his stomach. His lightsaber lay off to one side, deactivated and useless.

What followed seemed to go in slow motion for Ry-Gaul…

Abandoning his battle with the clones, he turned and began to run to Tru's side, fear clutching his heart, as the majority of the troops aimed their blasters at the silver-skinned boy.

_No!_

Terror gripped the Jedi Master. No matter how hard he pushed, his feet refused to speed up.

The clones began to pull their triggers.

In desperation, Ry-Gaul threw his lightsaber at the squad, killing two instantaneously. Their single-minded determination to kill rested on him, blasters re-aiming as he fought his way to his wounded Padawan's side.

"Tru – !"

Something small and alloy clattered to the floor near his feet.

A thermal detonator.

Ry-Gaul locked eyes with Tru for the briefest of seconds, then roughly Force-pushed him out of the way.

His world exploded in fiery pain.

-----

_"...And in the time of greatest_

_despair there shall come a savior,_

_and he shall be known as:_

_THE SON OF THE SUNS."_

_ - Journal of the Whills, 3:127  
_

Anakin Skywalker awoke to a chaotic world, a world he had dreamt about – no, not dreamt. _Seen._ He had seen all of this before – the soldiers, the death, the destruction. He had witnessed all of it in his vision, had been consumed by the fire, the pain. The pain of every single Jedi. Every scratch, every death, every heartache…he knew them all.

Something had happened. He wasn't the Jedi he had been. He was stronger, more powerful…

The Chosen One.

But was that truly possible? He himself only believed the prophecy to true half the time. How many times had Yoda told his fellow Jedi not to judge someone's abilities based on size or appearance…

…Or midichlorian count?

Twenty-thousand meant nothing. It was his choices that would determine his path. Everything began with choice.

"But I never chose this…"

_Yes, you did, _a gentle voice replied. _You chose it the moment you lowered your lightsaber and collapsed into Qui-Gon's waiting arms, when you resisted temptation to remain true to the vows you pledged to your Master and the Jedi Order, when you sacrificed revenge for your mother's death to continue pursuing your future as a Jedi Knight. You chose every single day, even if you did not realize it._

A whisper: "What if I fail?"

_The Chosen One cannot fail. Even when all hope seems lost, when there appears to be no light left in the universe, the Force is still at work. It will not abandon you, Anakin Skywalker. It will never abandon you._

"What do I do now?"

_Fulfill your destiny._

-----

The Other Author's Notes: So, despite many predictions I've received about Obi-Wan being the true "Chosen One," it is, as it has always been, Anakin's task to bring the Force back into balance. I would like the point out that there is some controversy over whether or not the prophecy of the Son of the Suns is actually referencing Anakin or Luke. For our purposes, since it has not truly been determined and still fits in the context of this story and the basic canon universe of Star Wars, it references Anakin.

On a completely different note, I was wondering if any of you could refresh me on the full quote in Secrets of the Jedi when Obi-Wan holds his lightsaber to Magus and says "But I am not like you." My SotJ book is MIA, and it's really bugging me because I can't, for the life of me, remember. Any help would be much appreciated.

Back on the subject of JT III, I've decided to make a little poll question. Which, out of the three, would you rather see die: Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, or Anakin. Keep in mind that your answers will not affect the story in any way. I'm just settling my own blasted curiosity.

Stay tuned for Chapter Nineteen: The Jedi Fight Back. Don't hesitate to review!


	19. Chapter Nineteen: The Jedi Fight Back

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued. I do, however, own Healer Trave.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: A big thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter, especially Tyanne for helping me out with that quote. In the end, I just gave in and bought a new SotJ book, along with some others that had yet to be added to my collection (yay new books!). This chapter contains quite a lot of Anakin, since we haven't really seen him much so far during this seemingly everlasting battle, so without further ado, the next exciting chapter...

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

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Chapter Nineteen: The Jedi Fight Back

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Without any warning, the bond was viciously ripped from her mind. An agonized moan escaped her lips as she stumbled and collapsed against a pillar, succumbing to the blinding, head-splitting shot of pain that streaked its way through her skull, a penetrating message of the worst kind.

Soara Antana's Padawan was dead.

She hadn't been quick enough, hadn't been able to protect –

Swarms of blaster fire screamed past her, missing their target by mere centimeters.

The clones weren't going to allow her any time to grieve.

She would allow them no time to celebrate.

-----

"Skywalker! Where in the name of the Force do you think you're going?" Bith Healer Trave screeched at Anakin as he slowly crossed the Med Center, stumbling as his body tried to recover from its mental battle only hours before. He may have felt more powerful, but his body certainly didn't agree.

"I'm going to fight." After slipping on his boots and outer tunic (both of which he assumed had been removed during his examination), his hand automatically reached down to remove the familiar weight of his lightsaber from his waist.

But it wasn't there.

_Kriff._ "Where's my lightsaber," he asked Master Trave as his eyes scanned the room for the familiar glint of his most prized possession.

Not on the bed…

Healer Trave, clucking like a mother fowl, grabbed his arm with strength he didn't know the elderly Jedi possessed and steered him back over to the bed.

…Not on the counter…

"Padawan Skywalker, you're in no condition to…"

She kept talking. Anakin kept searching.

…Nor was it next to any of the monitors, bacta containers, or extra clean linens.

"…A very good chance you may die."

Anakin nodded distractedly. "Where's my lightsaber?"

"Have you not heard a word I've said? You won't be able to defend yourself."

He forced himself to restrain a groan. He didn't have time to argue with her. "Master Trave, you've heard of the prophecy of the one who will bring balance, right?"

The Jedi Healer fixed him with a very stern look. He held her gaze. "Anakin, Chosen One or not, you are not leaving this room until it is safe enough for us to transport all the wounded to the ship."

Partially out of fatigue and partially out of growing annoyance, Anakin rubbed his hand across his face. "With all due respect, Master, if I don't go out there, it won't be safe."

"No," Trave replied. "And that's my final word on the matter."

Then Anakin would do what he had to. He called the Force around him, felt it lift him up and support his weakened limbs, and sprinted out of the Healer's Ward as fast as he could, Trave calling after him.

Weaponless, he decided to return to his living quarters. If his lightsaber hadn't been with him in the Med Center, then it was most likely that it remained in his room.

He sensed the invaders only moments before they appeared at the end of the corridor. Tucked out of sight behind a statue of one of the original High Council members, he was able to watch the soldiers without being seen.

There were five of them, all equipped with DC-15 rifles, concussion grenades, and EC detonators. The foremost trooper appeared to be of a higher rank than the others, as shown by the colorful markings on his otherwise pristine armor. He was the one Anakin needed to focus on. He would be the most skilled and therefore, the most deadly.

"There are no more Jedi up here, Nate," one of the other members of the party spoke. "Either they've left the Temple or they're engaged in combat."

"You heard what Jango Fett said," 'Nate' replied. Anakin did a double take. They sounded exactly the same.

_What in the galaxy?_

"These traitors are smarter than we give them credit. He's positive there are some waiting to take us by surprise."

"One-hundred percent."

They – whoever and whatever they were – were coming closer to Anakin's hiding spot. Suddenly, it didn't feel like such a brilliant idea to have left the safety of the Medi-Corps Infirmary, which had several fully-trained Jedi Masters, all equipped with at least one charged, operational lightsaber.

_Master Qui-Gon did always say that I rushed into decisions too much._

There was only one thing he could do.

Just before the reconnaissance group reached his hiding spot, Anakin gathered the Force and shoved the troops fiercely, sending them flying back down the hallway. He took off running as they struggled to recover, only delaying his escape long enough to send their weapons down the turbolift shaft, where they would be unable to harm any more members of his Jedi family.

-----

Children screamed as the corridor around them disintegrated into irreparable havoc, an array of weaponry and combat procedures pitted against one another in a desperate life and death struggle. There was no place for the younglings to hide from the threat, no side room for them to cower in as Knight Olin and Master Vant fought for their futures.

"Run, Younglings," Olana instructed in a breathless command, slicing her lightsaber through a blaster. She had always been one of the more pacifistic Jedi in the Temple, spending most of her time on diplomacy and Initiate training rather than on her own defensive and offensive skills. But pacifist or not, Olana was a Jedi, and she knew how to defend lives.

Beside her, Twi'lek Master Vant, with help from the Force, threw several pieces of debris at their attackers, hindering their assault. The two Jedi shared a brief glance.

It was very unlikely any of them would leave this hallway.

"Where go we?" a reptilian youngling cried, pressed up against the wall as much as possible. An Initiate across from him was hit by a blaster bolt and fell with an excruciating cry.

Another soul to add to the netherworld of the Force.

Vant leapt in front of the younglings and deflected three more bolts away from their young charges. "To the hangar. You must get off Coruscant."

"Wifout 'ou?" a female Crecheling barely two-and-a-half cycles old whimpered, clutching the arm of a slightly older Initiate. She screamed as the battle whipped around her.

Olana charged ahead of the group, leapt, and let her feet connect with the head of her target, knocking him to the ground. Now among their ranks, she let her lightsaber fly, destroying all in its path.

"Take them!" she yelled above the humming of her lightsaber and the echoes of war. "I'll hold them off!"

It was risky, and it was very unlikely that she would survive the brutal attack, but the lives of all the children meant more than her own.

Master Docent Vant wasted no time arguing with Olana, but instead scooped up the youngest Crecheling in her arms and began running to the Temple hangar, urging the young ones to keep up and stay together.

Not until Docent's single blue lekku disappeared did she allow herself to show the Sith's pawns the full extent of her Jedi training.

-----

Anakin gripped the smooth metal, turning the cool cylinder in his hand until his skin rested in the natural mold he had made through years of combat and training. A Jedi's lightsaber was his/her lifeline; without it, he or she would be at an extreme disadvantage if pitted against armed foes. There were, of course, ways in which Jedi could fight and survive with their lightsabers, but such actions were frowned upon unless one was in a most dire situation. In a way, even lightsaber combat was frowned upon. Jedi were, first and foremost, peacekeepers and diplomats. Lightsabers were to be used only in extreme cases, and even then, Jedi taught mostly defense and non-fatal disarming.

He didn't think that this was one of those maim-rather-than-kill moments.

"Die Jedi scum!"

Definitely not.

The Jedi's famed Chosen One, having regained a bit more strength during his quest for his lightsaber, flipped over the troops before they could even lock-on to their target and used his crystal blade to dissect them with the ease of cutting air.

Their death groans caught the attention of a squad of five more soldiers, fighting a losing battle against Master Yoda. The troops, sensing Anakin was an easier target than the aerodynamic Yoda, broke away from the ancient warrior's attack and aimed at the Senior Padawan. Anakin braced himself for the onslaught, but it was in vain, for Master Yoda's emerald lightsaber flew out of nowhere and cut down the squad.

There was no time for thanks. The two Jedi quickly went their separate ways.

-----

Another trooper fell with an anguished moan.

"Just wait until you meet me in the air," Garen spat at the lifeless body, reflexively bringing his lightsaber up to deflect a bolt of energy back to its original master. The soldier fell against one of the large stone pillars, clutching his injured leg.

"A little off," a familiar voice grunted as another lightsaber joined the fray of energy beams, singing sweetly as clone after clone fell to the magnificent power of Form I.

Garen slashed as a foe attacked from the right with a vibroblade. The weapon fell to the ground, useless, leaving a stunned warrior brandishing a fairly non-dangerous handle. "I was distracted."

The Nautolan smiled. A clone met the sole of his standard Jedi boot. "Bragging will do that."

Clones continued to press in on them from all sides, temporarily halting the banter between the two friends as they focused on unfriendly fire and hand-to-hand combat. Kit Fisto swirled and jabbed, prospering under the fluid movements of his preferred form while Garen focused his attention on the defensive side of combat.

Sweat began to dimple Knight Muln's forehead as he fought off the barrage of attacks. He gave himself to the Force and let it loosen his tense, tired muscles and give him the strength to stall the advancement of Obi-Wan's army.

_Why, Obi-Wan?_

Didn't he see what he was doing?

Six of their attackers broke from formation to join another group harassing an apprentice protecting an Initiate and a wounded Knight. Garen moved without thought, leaping over the barricade of soldiers and charging at the clones, stabbing one, two, then three in rapid succession.

But not quick enough; the Padawan and Initiate (who had been wielding a low-power training lightsaber) both fell under the strain of blaster fire.

"Watch your flank!"

Garen became just a flurry of motion, destroying every trooper with powerful speed and precision, barely restraining the monster inside him that fought to slay the murderers with pent-up hatred. However, he was a Jedi, and he forced himself to attack without emotion, to not let his feelings dictate his behavior.

Otherwise…he'd be no different from Obi-Wan.

A Calamarian Jedi leapt in to help him dispose of the Sith minions, wielding her lightsaber with graceful savagery, her entire attention focused on ridding the Temple of its assassins.

"Bant?"

Her lightsaber pierced through the last soldier's armor. "Thought you could use a hand." Her large, silver eyes glowed with determination and hope as she scooped up the Initiate Garen had been trying to save. The youngling was the only one still alive.

"I had everything under control," the Knight panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Piece of sweetcake…"

-----

"Sorry about that," the bounty hunter cackled as Knight Fy-Tor-Ana fell to the floor, clutching the wound site where he had used a piece of alloy shrapnel to split the Jedi's side.

Anakin watched from the shadows, tense with righteous anger, as the fierce Knight slowly faded into the Force as a pool of crimson gathered next to her.

_Patience, Ani, _Qui-Gon's voice spoke in his mind. _Wait for the opportune moment._

He lightly fingered the activation button on his lightsaber hilt, simply itching to engage the twisted man who had caused so many deaths and so much destruction. Without a doubt, he was the same bounty hunter who had been the bane of his and Qui-Gon's existences as they had protected the then-Senator Padme Amidala…back when the enemy of the Republic had been the CIS…

…Before Kenobi had turned to the Dark Side.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

The bounty hunter began to move away. The Force nudged Anakin.

_Now._

Anakin leapt, pummeling the assassin to the permacrete floor, hands, heads, shoulders, and knees all slamming into their less-than-soft makeshift landing pad. Pain shot through Anakin's left arm, and his lightsaber bounced out of sight. The bounty hunter seemed to be faring not much better as he cursed Anakin, struggling to his feet.

His blaster found Anakin's exposed frame.

But Anakin was already moving by the time he pulled the trigger. Rolling out of harm's way, the prophesized Chosen One called his lightsaber to his hand and sprang into attack position.

The Mandalorian-armored man chuckled. "You really think you're going to stop me, Jedi?"

"No," he replied calmly. "I know I am."

There was a ripple in the Force. Anakin dodged to the right, barely avoiding being blasted into oblivion. Under the cover of smoke, he slinked back to the left, finding the element of surprise in his foe's blind spot.

Anakin attacked, bringing his lightsaber down diagonally, tipping the bounty hunter's armor as he sprang out of the way, avoiding the Padawan's otherwise fatal blow.

Frustrated, Anakin let out a string of curses in both Huttese and Basic as he dodged the fire from Jango's twin blasters.

"Had enough, Jedi?"

"I'm just getting started."

The two continued their odd ballet, each ducking and attacking in turn, using anything they could as a weapon, both trying to gain the upper hand.

Luminous crystal lightsaber and Force powers battled an array of hot energy bolts and dangerous weapons. Their clashes, pops, and sizzles echoed throughout their battle arena, another layer of battle music to cover the many other unique tracks of wartime sounds.

He channeled all his power and strength into his attacks, becoming one with his lightsaber as it burned the air with its energy beam, humming romantically. But it wasn't enough. Whatever move he made, the bounty hunter countered it in record speed. No slash, thrust, or jab went unchallenged; no Force-push not evaded. Frustration grew in the young Jedi, and that was the last thing he needed.

Frustration could very well spell the end of Anakin Skywalker if he let it take hold. Frustration, as members of the Council had oft preached, led to rash behavior, which led to dangerous mistakes, which, ultimately, led to death.

Chosen or not, Anakin didn't think the Force would somehow help him evade that particular road should he ignore ten years of training.

"You must be proud of yourself," Anakin said, recovering from another dangerously close encounter with a thermal detonator.

The bounty hunter remained silent and still. If his body was tense, he couldn't tell.

"After all," he continued, catching his breath. "Not only do you get hired to kill one of the most beloved Senators – now the Chancellor – but you also get to personally destroy the Jedi Order on the behalf of Sith scum Obi-Wan Kenobi." His lightsaber reactivated with the familiar _snap-hiss_. "Not many people get to say that."

The bounty hunter's head tilted a fraction of a centimeter to the right. "What's it to you?"

Anakin smirked. "My Master always taught me to be courteous to those I'm about to kill."

They resumed combat, stronger and deadlier than before. Only one would walk away…

Anakin wrenched away one of Fett's blasters with his grapnel line and swung it around again to bind the warrior. At that moment, however, he ignited his rocket pack and flew out of the reach of the grapnel line. The Jedi, unfortunately, was directly in the path of his own makeshift weapon and was forced to leap out of the way. Instead of jumping to the side, Anakin gathered the Force and leapt forward, directly towards the bounty hunter.

Upon collision, both flew straight through one of the many giant transparisteel windows in the Temple and plummeted to the ground several hundred stories below.

At least he didn't have a fear of flying…

The two continued to fight in close combat, rolling and spinning out of control. The young Jedi, eager to handicap his opponent, quickly removed the cover of the rocket pack's control panel and loosened the wires so the machinery stalled and died.

In hindsight, that hadn't been a very smart idea.

"Oh, _kriff_."

A hard right hook sent Anakin flying off the bounty hunter and racing towards his doom as he narrowly avoided rushing speeders and air taxis. But Anakin recovered quickly and Force-pulled his opponent to him…

…And straight down on his ignited lightsaber.

He slowed his own descent as the corpse slipped through the air silently, a poetic end for the formidable foe. Anakin landed feet-first on a passing speeder and used the momentum to Force-leap towards the Temple, crashing through another window quite a few stories below his original location.

-----

Darth Dementor's comlink chirped.

"_What?_ How?"

A voice on the other end nervously stuttered an explanation.

"I'll be right there." He growled savagely and headed towards an exit. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

-----

The Other Author's Note: Ding-dong Jango's dead...and poor Darra. Who saw that coming? It gives me great pleasure to inform everyone that I have finished the last chapter of Revenge, bringing this installment to a total of 21 chapters. Yay! These next two chapters will be the most intense, action- and otherwise, as they include the imminent duels between Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Anakin. So keep a look out for Chapter Twenty: Darkness Descended.

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	20. Chapter Twenty: Darkness Descended

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: Enjoy.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Twenty: Darkness Descended

-----

The darkness arrived, cloaked in familiarity and saturated in evil. The very matter of the Temple quaked under the Sith's powerful, confident steps.

The true battle, Yoda feared, had only just begun.

-----

He passed through the halls of the hallowed Jedi haven with a sneer on his face, bypassing petty struggles between clones and peacekeepers without so much as a blink of an eye or a flick of a wrist. Instead, he left it to the reinforcements marching behind him to help their brothers finish off the inconsequential Jedi scum.

In all honesty, he had expected far better from the Jedi. It was actually rather anticlimactic. He hadn't even encountered resistance as he entered the last remnants of the Old Republic.

_Pitiful._

Yet, the Jedi had managed to dispose of Jango Fett. Well, that particular…_achievement_…had been the handiwork of young Anakin Skywalker, unsurprisingly. He was becoming quite a regular thief – first his Master and now his revenge on his former captor. Good thing he was going to rid him of that rather annoying habit.

It was a shame he hated him so much. He could've made a fine apprentice (if ever turned to the Dark Side). But alas, _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ did hate Anakin Skywalker – with every cell in his thriving body, with every molecule of the putrid existence he lived, he detested the boy, and he would not rest until he was smirking at the lifeless, rotting corpse of the bane of his existence.

But would that be enough? Would merely taking the boy's life be a satisfactory payment for the lifetime of discontent and inadequacy Obi-Wan had suffered? Would that settle the ten years of looking upon Qui-Gon and Anakin's budding Master-Padawan relationship and knowing that he hadn't been good enough for Qui-Gon? That a slave boy from Tatooine who _might possibly_ fulfill a prophecy most Jedi didn't even believe in was more important to him than the young man who had given _everything_ he had to give to Qui-Gon over twelve long years?

For it had been Obi-Wan – not Anakin – who had almost blown himself to smithereens to gain Qui-Gon's trust; Obi-Wan – not Anakin – who had suffered through the Xanatos days; _Obi-Wan_ who had rescued Qui-Gon… _Obi-Wan_ who had helped him recover after Tahl's death… _Obi-Wan_ who had sought his approval every day… _Obi-Wan_ who had stood by his side for over twelve years…

_Obi-Wan_…not Anakin.

_Never_ Anakin.

_The Sith_ quivered in uncontrollable rage. Anakin Skywalker was going to die. And he was going to die today.

"Spread out," he ordered an ARC trooper. "If you find Skywalker or Jinn, comm me immediately, and whatever you do, don't let them out of your sight. Failure to comply will result in your immediate extermination."

"Yes, sir."

The clones spread out, breaking off into reconnaissance groups of two or three, sweeping the corridors and war-torn rooms for the two specific Jedi with death marks on their heads. Dementor himself stepped into a turbolift, banishing the nostalgia from his mind as it started its journey to a higher floor. He could ill-afford to be overcome by memories and sensations of his previous life. His time as a Jedi, as he had told Siri before her _tragic_ death, meant nothing to him any longer.

The lift open twenty-seven stories later, on a floor Dementor knew quite well, but hadn't visited in years:

The Initiate apartments and clan rooms.

The memories came anyway.

_Memories,_ right… _Being brainwashed by their lies, becoming weak under their standard of 'no emotion, no passion, no chaos.'_

He _hated_ the Jedi.

_Honor over hate._

"Shut up!"

"Talking to yourself, Sith scum? I hear that's the first sign of insanity."

Dementor whirled around to find a young, female Padawan standing behind him. While her stance spat anger and determination, her eyes, two stormy orbs awash with permafrost frigidness, seemed to have matured from anxious Padawan to weary survivor in a matter of seconds. He felt no remorse.

"I don't believe I know you…"

The Padawan clenched the two lightsaber hilts in her hands. "Serra Keto, _Murderer._"

Finding it far too amusing to aggravate the girl, Dementor continued his nonchalant air, speaking to her with the intonation and care of one discussing something as trivial as the weather. "Oh yes, you're Cin Drallig's Padawan; now I remember." A faux charming smile.

_And Garen insisted I could never act…_

Keto continued to glare at him, as if a mere Padawan could frighten an all-powerful Sith Lord. Taun We had been more threatening… "You know, for a Jedi apprentice," he taunted, "you seem to have an excessive amount of hatred in you."

"You're destroying the Jedi," she hissed.

A long, dramatic pause. "Yes."

The lightsabers in her hands ignited, two emerald beams pulsing under her command. She moved to leap –

"Serra!"

The urgent voice, catching them both off guard, caused the two almost-duelists to stumble, though the Sith recovered far faster and smoother than Serra Keto. An older Jedi rushed in, golden lightsaber blazing, and stepped protectively in front of the young girl.

Cin Drallig.

"Nice of you to join us, Master Drallig. I was about to dispose of your Padawan. Now, however, I can rid myself of two annoyances at the same time. Two mynocks with one blaster bolt."

Though Cin Drallig was a Master of lightsaber technique (_Obi-Wan_ had had many lessons with him during his training), he was unconcerned. The Jedi was strong and knowledgeable, but Dementor had the advantage: anger, power, desire. Even if the saber Master combined the most ferocious attacks from Forms I-VI, he would still not have the strength or speed to defeat Dementor.

The Jedi would not survive.

"That's where you're wrong, Kenobi."

Bored, he replied "Do explain." He unhooked the hilt of his lightsaber from his belt, but did not activate it.

"Your aggression will be your downfall. It will blind you, decrease your accuracy. You will make a mistake," the Jedi promised calmly, "and I will take advantage of it."

Dementor grinned sadistically. "I look forward to proving you wrong."

His crimson blade ignited.

-----

Obi-Wan had arrived at the Temple; Qui-Gon could sense him.

Desperation flowed through the Temple in currents similar to those of a flash flood. Every Jedi was more alert, eyes shifting rapidly from one place to another, as if expecting the Sith to jump out at them from the shadows. The troops seemed rejuvenated, attacking their prey harder and faster than before, fighting with renewed energy.

This was it.

Qui-Gon had known that it would eventually come, but he had been praying to the Force to stall his impending duty – the inevitable battle between light and dark, Jedi and Sith…

…Master and Padawan.

He had to face Obi-Wan.

He had to destroy him.

But he wasn't sure he had the strength…

-----

The charred, smoking body of Cin Drallig slipped off the crimson energy beam, falling next to the limb-less torso of his deceased apprentice.

Dementor arrogantly smirked. "Somehow, 'I told you so' just doesn't seem like enough."

Using the Force, he picked up the deceased Jedi's lightsaber and spun it in the air. The alloy tube shimmered in the morning sun. He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the intoxicating power of the Force. It flowed through his veins like fire, allowing him to manipulate it to his needs.

The weapon imploded.

It clattered to the floor as he slowly eased out of his Force-induced high.

Very shortly, he would be the most powerful being in the galaxy, and there would be no one to stop him.

His comlink chirped.

"What is it?"

"We've found Skywalker."

-----

_Darkness descended…_

"_Kenobi_." Skywalker's eyes narrowed.

With a wave of his hand, all the clones in the vicinity left, leaving only the two rivals to face one another.

No distractions.

"It's _Darth Dementor_, Skywalker," the Sith spat venomously. "And you'd do well to remember that."

Finally, after all these years…he had Anakin Skywalker right where he wanted him. He would be able to show him just how much pain he had suffered. He would make him feel what the once-Jedi had felt every day after Qui-Gon had cast him aside. The anger, the frustration… He would make the boy _suffer_.

Revenge would be very, very sweet indeed.

"Well, at least you got a wizard name out of the deal," Anakin replied nonchalantly, seemingly unconcerned with the Sith Lord's threat.

Darth Dementor's blood boiled. "Oh, but I've gained so much more," he breathed, taking a predatory step forward, his limber body slinking towards his enemy like a hunting nexu, stealthily watching his prey, searching for weaknesses. His lightsaber remained ready in the palm of his hand.

"Oh yeah?" Anakin's blue eyes challenged the Sith Lord. "What?"

His voice was just a hiss, dripping with hatred. "The power to rid the galaxy of you and your traitorous Master."

Sudden confusion plastered the young Jedi's face. "What do you mean? _You're_ the traitor."

"You know exactly what I mean, Skywalker."

"I wouldn't have asked if I did."

A putrid sound escaped Dementor's throat. Akin to a laugh, it was laced with insanity-ridden malice, glottal and poisonous. The Jedi unconsciously took a step back, much to the delight of the Dark Lord.

"Playing innocent to the last, Skywalker? Your precious Jedi would be proud…"

Anakin shook his head in disbelief. "You're insane."

"No," he countered quickly, sliding closer to the pathetic life form before him, pushing him back and boxing him into a corner. "What's happened to me is far worse." There was an ominous pause as Dementor called on the Force to strengthen his impending attack. "I've learned the truth."

They were an arm's length away now. Dementor could hear every rattling breath the Jedi took, could smell the stink of the sweat on his tunic, could feel him shiver under the dark, unyielding power Dementor radiated.

"Tell me, _Chosen One_ – do you fear anything?"

The Light Side of the Force gathered around Anakin. "Only becoming you."

The battle began.

The Sith Lord jabbed his crimson blade at the Jedi apprentice, but Anakin, his strength magnified by the Force, anticipated the move and spun away from him quickly, widening the space by entering a conjoined room.

Such a tactic gave Skywalker the advantage, and Dementor was _not _going to allow that to happen. He leapt after him, closing the gap between them once again, throwing his anger into aggressive blows, an unrelenting attack on the Jedi's precious savior. The strain of the fight shone in both opponents as their lightsabers clashed repeatedly, muscles quivering under the force of the attacks.

But neither dared surrender to the other. Both fought for a cause greater than that of their own lives. Anakin fought for his home and his family, his way of life. He fought to preserve what a thousand years of service had created, what had stood strong through all the years despite various attempts to destroy it. For Dementor, it was revenge, a force birthed from jealousy and unstoppable by any means other than that of fulfillment.

"I'll never understand why Qui-Gon mourned you for so long," Anakin remarked as they found themselves in a temporary stalemate, crystal and crimson sizzling and crackling between them. "Even after he discovered the monster you really are."

Dementor kicked Anakin in the gut. "Liar," he hissed at him as he slashed with fury, desperate to overcome the Jedi. How dare he continue to lie to him, even now in the face of death? "Qui-Gon Jinn never cared about anything but his precious Chosen One." The words spit bitterly from his mouth like the poison of a viper, the saliva dripping down his chin in long rivers, gravity pulling it to the floor. "Five minutes with you, and he was willing to give up everything to ensure your training. He was even willing to _die_ for you."

He attacked twice as viciously as before, throwing ten years' worth of pain, hatred, and heartbreak into his swings. Anakin could scarcely keep up with his furious blows, barely twisting out of the way before the energy shaft crisped the air where his limbs had been.

Dementor gripped his lightsaber so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his palms began to sweat. He drove at the antagonist of his life, pouring all his emotion into the fight. But it was still not enough. Skywalker evaded his countless deadly strikes, countered his powerful maneuvers, and stalled his vicious Force attacks.

His fury rose.

Nothing was adequate to release his anger.

A particularly powerful blow caused Anakin to drop his lightsaber. The Dark Lord, his eyes madly glinting in victory, grabbed the boy's throat in a bone-crushing vice grip, squeezing hard enough to tear out his esophagus. Anakin struggled against the Sith Lord, who laughed in delight as he squirmed and gasped. His life drained with each oxygen-less second.

"_You're_ the savior of the Jedi?" Dementor exclaimed incredulously. They expected a mere human boy – barely a man – to bring their precious Force into balance? He wasn't even strong enough to defeat _him_. How could he possibly balance the Force?

An unexpected Force-push sent Dementor tumbling backwards.

The Sith cursed as he recovered in a somersault and leapt at the gasping Anakin, who met his attack with a well-place punch.

The lightsaber slipped from his hand.

Now Anakin was on the offense as Obi-Wan dodged his swings while trying to regain his fallen weapon. He called it to his hand just in time to block the otherwise fatal blow to his neck.

_Nice try, Jedi…_

Their lightsabers met again and again. Sparks flew every time they clashed, singeing robes, skin, and hair. They ignored the pain; they ignored their screaming muscles, the drips of sweat that stung their eyes…

Nothing mattered except winning.

Anakin's crystal beam feinted to the left and came back around, nicking Dementor's right hip. The pain raced up his nervous system, and he cried out against his will. The Jedi took advantage of his distraction and rained powerful blows on Dementor, who fought back desperately. He would not be overtaken by Anakin… He would not by killed by Qui-Gon's perfect Padawan…

The hilt of his lightsaber met Anakin's skull with a sickening crack.

Dementor wasted not a second in gathering the Dark Side and throwing Force-lightning at the boy. The power sang throughout their arena…or was that Anakin's throat-tearing scream? His pain gave the Dark Lord strength and stamina, his agony filling his mind and body like a drug.

Anakin collapsed to the ground, writhing against the pain. There was not a more delicious sight in the universe.

At long last, he relented his attack.

"You've lost, Skywalker. The Jedi cannot save you. Your powers cannot save you. Even your beloved Master Qui-Gon is incapable of delaying the inevitable." He looked around for show as the smoking Jedi watched him with wary eyes. "Where is Qui-Gon? Surely, he'd come try to save you, wouldn't he? You…his _perfect_ apprentice…his _Chosen One_…" He sneered. Anakin was no more than a pathetic heap of charred robes at his feet.

It finally dawned on Anakin. "You're…you're jealous…"

"It's more than warranted," he replied coldly, regarding the Jedi with unadulterated disgust. "Qui-Gon couldn't take his mind off you after we'd found you on that Force-forsaken dust ball. He thought of nothing but training you…turning you into a flawless Jedi. It didn't matter that the Code forbid it, that he already had an apprentice… He had to have _you_."

"You were ready…for the trials," Anakin tried to explain. "Qui-Gon said so himself."

"HE SAID THAT TO GET RID OF ME!" Dementor roared, rage soaring through his very core. "He was tired of training me! He wanted YOU!"

Anakin shook his head. "Qui-Gon wouldn't do that. Qui-Gon love – "

"SHUT UP! _SHUT UP_!"

He struck out with the Force, weaving it around Anakin's throat in a second attempt to strangle him. Anakin, however, was too weak to fight it and lay still as death began to take him.

But that wasn't vengeful for the Sith Lord. He wanted to watch him suffer during his last moments, not accept death without a fight. He released the boy and chucked his lightsaber at his pathetic frame.

"Get up," he commanded angrily, igniting his lightsaber.

Anakin stared. "What?"

"GET UP!"

Hesitantly, he struggled to his feet.

"Fight me, Chosen One. Fight me and die a slow, painful death with the knowledge that you were unable to save your pathetic Jedi – even blasted Qui-Gon Jinn."

The Chosen One's eyes widened. "No!"

Force-lightning danced from his fingertips once more, the energy screaming in release and overtaking the Jedi's savior once more.

A horrible cackle filled the room, insanity and darkness intertwined, a brewing storm of hatred and vindictive pleasure feeding off the pleading screams of the Jedi Order's only hope for salvation.

The Chosen One, created from the Force by the Force, at long last returned home.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: For so long I dreaded this chapter. It was the reason I took an almost year-long hiatus when I began writing this the first time because, at that time, I had Anakin die much earlier, and I simply couldn't do it. However, that being said, I find myself pleased with the way that I have written it, and I am anxious to hear your thoughts on the matter. The next chapter's the last one...and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan finally confront one another. Will someone else die? Will Obi-Wan be redeemed? Is someone going to hire a bounty hunter to assassinate me because I killed Anakin? Oh Force, I hope not... I must admit, I was surprised to find that most of you, out of the three leading men, would rather see Anakin die. I guess it just goes to show that Obi-Wan's a great character no matter what affliation...or I just wrote Anakin really crappy... Anyway, enough rambling...stay tuned for next week's intense finale (with a _possible_ preview of the next installment...yay!). Review!

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007_


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: Hate

Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued. Nor do I own text from Jude Watson's Jedi Apprentice #1: The Rising Force. It has only been added to the story to further the plot.

Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.

Author's Notes: All right, I start off this chapter by saying that, yes, this is, indeed, the last chapter of JT III, and that I have included a preview of JT IV at the end (insert cheers here). Also, I have included a brief portion from Jude Watson's Jedi Apprentice #1: The Rising Force. As stated in the disclaimer, it's not mine. I'm not a genius like her. And finally, a happy belated birthday to _The Maker_, our beloved George Lucas, who turned 63 years young on Monday, May 14th.

Enjoy the climatic end…of this installment.

**Revenge and Regret**

_By Kekelina_

-----

Chapter Twenty-One: Hate

-----

The two Jedi, on opposite sides of the Temple, fell almost in unison.

Bant was the first to drop, as their bond had been the more raw and weaker of the two. The young Calamarian succumbed to a seizure, her body's only defense against the near-liquefying of her brain. Had Garen Muln not quickly stepped forward to defend the incapacitated Jedi, she would've met her apprentice in the netherworld of the Force far sooner than expected.

Unlike Bant, Qui-Gon's mind and boy did not allow him the pleasure of sinking into blissful, ignorant unconsciousness when the bond was finally and agonizingly pried from the anchor in his mind, every single tendril and thread of Anakin's presence screaming against the dull vibroax that hacked away at their connection, slowly torturing every nerve receptor in his brain. No, Qui-Gon's mind did not give him the choice to "opt out." He endured every searing millisecond of unbearable agony, curled on the floor like a suffering youngling, tears streaming down his cheeks as if their release would ease some of his pain.

Qui-Gon had lost his son.

-----

As the brightest star in the universe died, Yoda slowly sank to the floor, clutching the vacuum wound in his chest.

Gone, the Jedi's greatest hope for survival was.

-----

"Hello, _Master._"

Qui-Gon did not need to lift his eyes to instantly recognize the frigid, cruel, clipped Coruscanti accent of the man he had loved like a son.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Qui-Gon could not bring himself to look up at those putrid yellow eyes, smug with the murder of Anakin, the rancid blood of a thousand deaths dripping into the manic irises.

This wasn't the man he had trained.

It couldn't be.

_His_ Obi-Wan had been kind and quiet, always so appalled by injustice, willing to give up his life as a Jedi to help those with a greater cause. _His_ Obi-Wan had found humor in the worst of situations and had fought with all his strength even during the most desperate times. _ His_ Obi-Wan had hated the Dark Side.

_"Qui-Gon Jinn, I will be thirteen in four weeks. You are my last chance to be a Jedi Knight."_

_Qui-Gon shook his head sadly. "It is better not to train a boy to become a Knight if he has so much anger. There is a risk he will turn to the Dark Side."_

_With that, the huge Jedi wheeled and strode for the door, his cape streaming._

_Obi-Wan sprang to his feet. "I won't turn."_

Where had he gone wrong?

The monster before him sneered. "Not happy to see me, _Master_?" The taunt continued, the word dripping from his parted lips with rotting malice, drenching the world around them in crushing hatred.

"Why?" A mere whisper.

The sneer melted from the Sith Lord's face as anger grew in his fetid eyes, surrounded by decaying flesh that seemed to light up as Qui-Gon shrank from the insanity that tinged his apprentice's once-calm blue-grey orbs. Obi-Wan bent low to the ground, stooping down to Qui-Gon's level and bringing his face mere centimeters from the Jedi's.

"Do you fear me, Qui-Gon Jinn?"

He shivered involuntarily. Obi-Wan breath stank of rotten corpses, of deceased carrion unworthy of being buried to decompose in the silence and solitude of eternity. The Dark Side had touched Obi-Wan far greater than Qui-Gon had ever imagined. The very sight of his lost Padawan stabbed him in the heart like a lightsaber, wrenching his heart in pain, yet he found himself transfixed by this demented man, and no matter how much he strove to look away, he simply…couldn't.

"Well, O Mighty Jedi Master? Do I _frighten_ you?"

Even if he had deemed to respond to the Sith's taunt, his mouth wouldn't let him. His mouth felt like it was filled with the coarse material of a Jedi's outer tunic, and a large lump had successfully lodged itself deep in Qui-Gon's throat, strangling his voice cords.

_Yes, my Padawan…you frighten me._

However, becoming quickly annoyed, Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's silence as defiance and roared angrily at him. "Speak, for stars' sake!" The Dark Side swirled viciously around them, soaring up to the catwalks that held the lighting system for the giant gardens that were the Room of a Thousand Fountains and crashing down with the mighty, roaring waterfalls. But as swiftly as the attack had come, it was gone, leaving only the knowing smirk on the dark face of the young Sith Lord and a dying chuckle on his thin lips.

"Typical Qui-Gon," he spat. "I should've known better. You never spoke if you could avoid it…unless I had done something to displease you. No 'Well done, Padawan' or 'I'm proud of you, Obi-Wan.' Nothing. Nothing except 'Release your emotions,' 'Your greatest enemy is your anger,' and 'Calm yourself, Padawan.'" He paused and tilted his head. "I was never good enough for you, was I, Qui-Gon?"

More clearly than ever before, Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's heartbreak behind his anger. It stabbed at his body like a thousand burning shafts of light, twisting and digging through his flesh in vengeful release. Suddenly, Qui-Gon understood. This was _his_ fault. Obi-Wan had turned to the Dark Side because of _him. _

The guilt consumed him as he struggled to his feet. He had to make Obi-Wan understand. He had to fix this. "That's not true…"

"Of course not," the Dark Sider amended dryly.

"Obi-Wan, I – "

"SHUT UP!" he suddenly screamed, his feral voice echoing throughout the giant room, his anger rustling the plants and causing Qui-Gon's heart to race. "The truth is," he continued quickly. "You never wanted me as a Padawan, and once you had me, you couldn't wait to be rid of me."

Qui-Gon shook his head in denial. He loved Obi-Wan as a son… He had never wanted to be rid of him. _Never_.

"You were always comparing me to someone else. I acted too much like Xanatos; I wasn't as powerful as Anakin. I wasn't as important as Tahl. No matter how much I tried to please you, you found some reason to keep me at arm's length. I always had one flaw too many.

"I looked to you for a family, but all I received was a detached expression and Jedi platitudes."

Qui-Gon stared in disbelief. Was that what he thought? That he hadn't cared for him, hadn't taken joy in every minute they'd spent together, hadn't been so proud to watch him grow as a Jedi and a young man? To see the boy he loved turn into a respected Jedi Knight?

He reached out for his son. "No, Obi-Wan, listen to me – "

"I listened to you for twelve years of my life and got thrown down the garbage chute for my trouble!"

For a moment, neither spoke. The only sounds around them were the distant shouts from the waning battle and the rise and fall of Obi-Wan's angry breaths. Qui-Gon knew not how to reply. The Sith's claims were ridiculous at best, but no matter how much he tried to explain the truth to Obi-Wan, he refused to listen. His mind, however irrational, was set.

Despite Qui-Gon's deepest and undying hopes, Obi-Wan Kenobi was truly gone.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan." _I'm sorry for whatever you think I've done to you and for what I must now do._

He sneered, an expression Qui-Gon would've never seen on the Jedi apprentice's young face. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead."

His crimson lightsaber snapped to life, entrancing Qui-Gon and filling him with everlasting sorrow. "I know."

Without warning, Obi-Wan slashed. Qui-Gon's lightsaber was activated and ready by the time the two blades met, emerald and ruby spitting sparks and hissing in conflict. There was only one way the duel could now end:

Death.

Qui-Gon quickly retracted his blade and spun to the left, feinting a high cut to swipe his blade at the Sith Lord's ankles.

But he was fighting with Obi-Wan, perhaps the one person in the universe who knew Qui-Gon's sparring style better than Qui-Gon himself. For twelve years they had trained together, helping each other grow while learning to predict each other's next moves. Every thrust was countered by a parry; every jab forced back by an elegant sweep. Qui-Gon was kept on his toes.

That being said, the Jedi Master couldn't help but notice that Obi-Wan's own style had changed drastically. During his Padawan years, he had been a practitioner of Ataru, as Qui-Gon was. But the Sith's current combat style was far more aggressive, akin to the powerful, deadly form of Vaapad.

He wielded his lightsaber like a madman, wild, fatal swings destroying everything in their paths. He seemed to waste no energy on defense, instead keeping Qui-Gon sprinting left and right for cover to dodge manic strokes. Many shrubs, rocks, and trees, which unwittingly served as Qui-Gon's shields, met their untimely ends at the point of Obi-Wan's lightsaber.

Air could not enter Qui-Gon's lungs quick enough; sweat dripped from his brow. Struggling to overcome exhaustion, the maverick Jedi called on the Force to give him strength, both physically and mentally.

_It would be so much easier if Obi-Wan were to kill me_, a part of his brain rationalized. The battle would be over. He wouldn't be forced to either allow Obi-Wan to end his life…or to end Obi-Wan's.

Locked in a heated conflict he had tried so hard to avoid, he didn't know if he had the strength to impale his former apprentice with a lightsaber.

_Obi-Wan is dead_, he forced himself to remember as he blocked a blow. _Only this monster remains._

_No…this monster is my son._

Despite all evidence to the contrary, the man standing before him, as evil as he was, would always be the boy he had trained from the time he was thirteen years old.

_This_ was why the Jedi frowned on attachments.

The battle led them to a bridge of stepping stones that spanned the width of one of the more shallow pools. Slippery from the water and layers of moss and lichens, the stones did not provide good fighting ground for their doomed duel. Both slipped as they fought, losing focus on the battle at hand to regain his footing before the other took advantage of his precarious posture. Qui-Gon quickly found that his soft-soled Temple boots provided less friction against the stones than Obi-Wan's hard-soled combat boots.

Thankfully, the pool of water was short in length, and they were once again fighting each other on blessed land. Obi-Wan ruthlessly charged, his lightsaber whipping continuously at the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon blocked to the best of his ability, cursing the strain in his arms and legs as he held the dangerous shaft of energy at bay for those few critical seconds as their blades met.

Giving into the stress of the moment, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I'm sorry I wasn't able to save you."

"Are you looking for forgiveness," he replied with a dry cackle, as cold and unfeeling as his feverish eyes.

"If I could change this," he answered hopelessly, forcing the contents of his stomach to stay where they belonged under the Sith's nauseous glare, "I would."

_I would go to the ends of the universe to save you._

Obi-Wan's face contorted in rage. "Liar!" His lightsaber drove down, singeing some of Qui-Gon's hair. The Jedi jumped back in shock over the sudden ferociousness of the attack, but recovered quickly and met the blows with equal, yet hesitant force, ignoring every ache and tremble in his body.

The Force gathered at Qui-Gon's request and threw the Sith Lord into one of the large ponds. Having successfully distracted Obi-Wan, he sprinted towards the open doors that led into the giant Room of a Thousand Fountains. Every muscle screamed for peace; only adrenaline kept fatigue at bay. Qui-Gon had been a Jedi long enough to know his limits, and at this moment, he knew he had met – and far surpassed – those limits. Any moment now his body would give out, and when it did, Obi-Wan would make his move.

But Qui-Gon did not reach the doors, for his former apprentice recovered quickly and Force-leaped in front of him, cutting off his escape. Saliva dripped from his mouth like a starving rancor about to digest its next meal. However, though tired and weak, the heartbroken Jedi had no intention of giving up without a fight. Either death would take him with a struggle, or the Force would intervene and render the Dark Lord weaponless.

For Qui-Gon had realized one very important fact:

He could not kill Obi-Wan. To do so would destroy Qui-Gon.

The Force flickered a warning, and Qui-Gon suddenly jumped up to the catwalks high above as the crimson blade of Obi-Wan's lightsaber passed through the area where his stomach had previously occupied. Only a second later, Obi-Wan joined him, and their lightsabers clashed and sizzled, creating a dazzling light show on the expansive ceiling.

"Feeling tired yet, Qui-Gon," he taunted, pushing him back with sheer muscular strength. "Your attacks are becoming sloppy."

To reserve his energy, Qui-Gon did not respond. He grasped for the Force's constant presence for strength, but the Force was not nearly as vibrant and easily accessible as usual. He was distracted by his raging emotions, a terrible storm upon the sea of Qui-Gon's inner being. His calm center, usually so attainable, eluded him, and his muscles whined with fatigue.

Obi-Wan, however, only seemed to grow stronger as the length of the battle increased. His attacks came in rapid succession, pushing the Jedi Master back with strength he hadn't competed against since he had fought the Sith apprentice on Naboo.

Right. Left. Right. Down. Back. Left. Duck.

But it was simply too much. He couldn't keep up with Obi-Wan's skilled and ferocious combat style. And, at the moment, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

_Force, forgive me._

A flash of crimson.

A tortured howl.

Qui-Gon Jinn collapsed to the grated floor of the catwalk as both leg and lightsaber dropped down to the lush earth of the gardens.

As the dull roar of pain finally subsided, the echo of a new sound appeared. The Sith Lord, Qui-Gon's precious Obi-Wan, was cackling madly, derangement and victory combined with a chilling obsessiveness. His blood-red lightsaber hovered near Qui-Gon's chin, ready to detach another appendage from his body.

Surprisingly, fear did not fill the doomed Master's being. In fact, he was rather…relieved. He would be joining the Force. No more would he be required to live the rest of his life with the pain of Obi-Wan's unspeakable evils and the knowledge that he had held a lightsaber to the boy and taken him from the universe. A life in which he had slain Obi-Wan was no life at all.

"Padawan-mine," he spoke through gritted teeth, trying and failing to suppress the pain. Obi-Wan watched in morbid anticipation, his disturbing yellow eyes alight with vindictive joy. "I never meant…" The pain, interrupting him, traveled to his heart, which was heavy with the knowledge of his mistakes.

He could've prevented this. He could've saved them all from a horrible fate. He could've saved Obi-Wan.

"Please know this, Obi-Wan…I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted this…to happen. I failed you." A sudden stab of pain. The smile had vanished from the Sith's face, replaced instead with a terrifying glare. The lightsaber inched closer to Qui-Gon's exposed neck.

"Admit it, Qui-Gon," he growled. "I was a burden to you. Dead weight you couldn't pass on to someone else. You distrusted me from the moment you met me, and nothing I did could change your opinion of me. Admit it."

He shook his head. It hadn't been like that at all.

"Admit it," the Sith Lord repeated angrily, pressing his booted foot against Qui-Gon's freshly cauterized wound. "ADMIT IT!"

"I will not…admit a lie."

Obi-Wan hissed in rage. Qui-Gon could see the anger flow through his entire body, shaking his limbs, locking his fists. He longed to strike out.

"Why continue to lie, Jinn? You're about to die. Your Chosen One is dead. Just admit it, for Force's sake! Admit it!" He was speaking rapidly, the words dumping out of his mouth like a Nabooian waterfall. He stooped down to Qui-Gon's level, gripping his arm, shaking it as if shaking a semblance of sense into the wounded Master. "Why won't you _kriffing_ admit it?"

Flecks of spit hit Qui-Gon's face, but he dared not turn from Obi-Wan's angry and bewildered gaze. "I told you, Padawan. I d – "

"I'm not your Padawan! You never wanted me! TELL ME YOU NEVER WANTED ME!"

There was a long pause as the frantic Sith and the fatigued Jedi stared at one another; Obi-Wan searched desperately for something behind Qui-Gon's eyes – a hidden truth – but the only thing Qui-Gon's eyes held was sorrow.

"I loved you like a son, Obi-Wan. I'm sorry you never saw that."

The slap of flesh meeting flesh stung his cheek.

"I _hate_ you."

The whispered words pierced Qui-Gon's broken heart. Tears sprang to his eyes.

Obi-Wan rose ominously. The heat from his lightsaber sizzled Qui-Gon's flesh.

_The end arrives…_

He shut his eyes. "I love you, my Obi-Wan."

He waited for the killing blow.

And waited.

And waited.

It never came.

Obi-Wan had vanished.

Yoda stood in his place, ears sagging and hair matted with sweat. "Leave we must. Into hiding we must go."

Confused, Qui-Gon searched for his former apprentice. "Obi-Wan…?"

"Fled, he did," the Grand Jedi Master replied, covering Qui-Gon's stump of his leg with his cloak. "But remain, the clones do. Unless leave we do, extinct will we become. But grow again, we will," Yoda added, more to himself, "and the light shall return."

As Yoda lifted him with the Force, Qui-Gon knew the despite everything that had transpired, there was still hope.

The Jedi would return.

-----

The Other Author's Notes: Wow. I can't believe I'm finally done. It felt like it would never happen. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers who have stuck by me throughout this fic; I couldn't do it without you. Well, I mean, I suppose I could…but I would be severely disinclined. I hope this battle was everything you guys were hoping for, and as an added treat, I have a preview of Jedi Trials IV for you guys. Enjoy!

**The Jedi are displaced…**

"You'll be safe here."

**The Senate is destroyed…**

Padme shut her eyes and rested her head against the stone. _Every single senator: dead._ How could he?

**Coruscant is in chaos…**

"We've received word that resistance groups have sprung up on Coruscant," Mace said solemnly.

-----

The screams of innocents rang through the night…

-----

"The soldiers are acting without a leader."

-----

Blaster fire peppered the sky. The rioting crowd was a sitting bantha for the squads of excellently trained clones.

-----

"I am not going to sit here and let more innocent people die!"

"We're outnumber 9,000 to one! We have no choice!"

"Heh. A choice there always is."

**And through it all, one man will fight to prove the impossible…**

Adi Gallia blocked his path. He made to move around, but she tilted her head, the tails on her battered headpiece swaying. "Where are you going?"

He met her soft gaze with resolution. "I'm going to find him."

-----

"Obi-Wan is a Sith, Qui-Gon! That is all he can ever be now!"

"He has changed; I know it!"

_"Drive out darkness…" _

**Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan…**

_"…darkness cannot."_

…**will meet again.**

_"Only light can that do."_

**And this time…**

_"Drive out hate…"_

"Obi-Wan…"

…**the results…**

_"…hate cannot."_

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

…**will…**

"Please…"

…**shock you.**

_"Only love."_

"I HATE YOU!"

**Jedi Trials IV: Turmoil and Sacrifice**

_** The Saga Ends**_

_** This Summer**_

_Rated T_

_Author's Edit: 8-21-2007 _


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